ã€ŠInsider&#x27;s Digital Guide To Seeing Ghosts [Thriller, Mystery, Horror]ã€‹


 1. Important! Please Watch

    Most children make new friends growing up. I did too¡ªlots of them. Well, I guess it depends on what your criteria is for a friend.

    My friends were a little different than others. They were ghosts. I know what you¡¯re thinking, and no, I''m not insane.

    Sorry, I¡¯m a bit nervous. This is my first attempt at creating a video. It¡¯s possible I¡¯m getting ahead of myself, so let me rewind a bit.

    Hello, my name is Alex. I¡¯m 16, and today''s date is April 16, 2005. If you¡¯re watching this, it most likely means my time is up, and you were the lucky individual to get my laptop. Or possibly unlucky. I¡¯ll let you decide.

    Regardless, you''re probably curious how I died. Honestly, it¡¯s probably not as exciting as it might sound. While it¡¯s possible I ended up tailing some bad guy and found myself deep in a large undercover kidnapping ring, it was most likely the cancer.

    I guess the bald head and skinny frame might have been a pretty good hint. But yeah, I have stage IV acute lymphoblastic leukemia. Personally, I wouldn¡¯t recommend it.

    My mom always complained that I shouldn¡¯t tell people I just met that I¡¯m dying. I¡¯m not ashamed of what I have, although I think she might be.

    As someone with multiple friends in the afterlife, as you¡¯ll soon come to see, it¡¯s really not that bad. While the dead don¡¯t directly talk to me, they¡¯ve given me a lot of insight into what to expect . When I reach the other side, it¡¯s hard to fully put into words how that works. It¡¯s something you''ll have to see to fully understand.

    To be totally real with you, anything is better than being trapped in this house all day with my parents. Since the diagnosis, my parents have been on edge. I know it¡¯s because of me, but I¡¯m hopeful that one day I won¡¯t be a burden on them anymore.

    Anyway, these videos I made for you aren¡¯t just me rambling on about my impending doom, I swear on my life. Well, my life right now at least.

    I¡¯m here to help you adjust to your new life. I¡¯m hopeful that you haven¡¯t already experienced any phenomenon prior to watching this video. If so, well I guess you can just fast forward this section.

    If you haven¡¯t, you might want to sit down for this, if you¡¯re not already, pause the video and find a place to sit before you continue.

    Ok, ready? You''ve inherited my ability to see the dead.

    ###

    I paused the video. The room was filled with a heavy silence, the kind that comes when you discover something life-altering. Murph and I sat in his bedroom, huddled around his desk, the used laptop between us showcasing the nervous face of the boy now known as Alex.

    ¡°See, I told you!¡± I said, breaking the quiet.

    Murph''s eyes were wide, disbelief etched into his features. ¡°Wait, let me get this straight. Joe, You¡¯re telling me you found this video on a disc in the laptop you bought off Craigslist?¡±

    I nodded. I pressed the eject button. The laptop whined before it finally spit out the disc. I held it up, angling it so the light caught the handwritten labels: "Important!" and "Please Watch."

    ¡°Yeah, this disc was in there. Do you think it¡¯s some kind of hoax? Remember when LonelyGirl15 turned out to be fake? Maybe this is like that. Someone could¡¯ve made this video, and left it on the laptop as a prank. Plus ghosts aren¡¯t real¡­ right?¡±

    Murph took the disc from me. He flipped it back and forth in his hands, studying all sides of it. His brows furrowed in that way they do when he¡¯s deep in thought.

    ¡°It¡¯s possible it¡¯s a hoax. Do you see any dead people now?¡±

    I looked around the room, ¡°Nope, just you. Are you dead?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure I¡¯m alive,¡± he said.

    He handed the cd back, ¡°Did he say anything else?¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah! Sorry.¡±

    I slid the disc back in. Windows Media Center opened, the familiar blue screen illuminated our faces. I scrolled to the video labeled ¡°Watch this first¡± and fast-forwarded a bit.

    We both leaned in as Alex reappeared on the screen. He reminded me a little of Xander Harris from Buffy the Vampire Slayer as he sat there in his computer chair.

    Like Xander, his skinny face was offset by large ears that protruded out from his head. Unlike Xander, he lacked the long shaggy hair to help hide those ears, which made them look even larger against his skinny frame.

    He was still a good looking kid, who was probably relatively athletic before his diagnosis. Although his black Iron maiden shirt and black painted nails screamed teenager in his heavy metal phase. Most kids I knew with that aesthetic had long unkempt hair.

    To be honest, the aesthetic didn''t work quite as well without the shaggy hair to complete it. It turned his look from metal head to teen with apparent anger issues. Maybe he had long hair before the cancer.

    I caught Murph staring at me. Oh yeah, he was waiting on me. I pressed play and watched as he continued to speak.

    ###

    I¡¯m sorry. I know right now you¡¯re probably thinking this was some kind of hoax. I sincerely wish it was and for your sake I hope I¡¯m wrong. Perhaps I should probably explain.

    I haven¡¯t always been able to see dead people. It started right after my cancer was diagnosed two years ago. My parents bought me this laptop to help pass the time between treatments. That¡¯s when the first girl showed up. Wow, two years ago. Time really flies when you¡¯re slowly dying. Sorry, dark humor is kind of my thing.

    Soon after, a young blonde haired boy showed up with a small scar above his left eye. It didn¡¯t stop with him.

    Quickly, the silent eyes that watched over me as I slept multiplied. From what I¡¯ve gathered, the dead don¡¯t sleep at night. Instead they seem to watch almost enviously as I do.

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    The more of them that showed up, the less I found myself able to sleep. There¡¯s something about a crowd of people that watch you sleep that leaves you uneasy, even if they aren¡¯t really there. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll experience that soon enough.

    Sleep aside, I didn¡¯t question where they came from. Honestly, I thought maybe they were imaginary friends I manifested to keep me company during this whole thing.

    That is, well, until I heard my parents mention a missing boy with a small scar above his eye on the news. They never did realize how much sound travels up the vent in this house.

    When I mentioned the boy to my parents, they exchanged worried glances. Later, I overheard them whispering about side effects, using words like ¡®hallucinations¡¯ and ¡®imagination¡¯ as if my brain couldn¡¯t be trusted anymore.

    My body may be slowly dying, but my brain is sharp. I need you to know that.

    I decided that if they wouldn¡¯t believe me I had to find proof. I had to make them believe. I started researching the disappearance of the boy. That was when something happened, something I honestly can¡¯t explain.

    Like I said before, we don¡¯t exactly talk with words. It¡¯s more like talking through feelings. It¡¯s a bit like Raven from Teen Titans; hopefully, by the time you see this, you¡¯re not too young to know what Teen Titans is. If not, totally go check it out. Great show!

    Sorry, I tend to go off on tangents.

    What was I talking about again? Oh yeah, the boy.

    I was watching some of the footage of him, you know local news reports and such.

    After a few hours of combing over the footage, a man with a dark gray beard, thick rimmed glasses, and a ragged old army coat came on the screen for an interview. I later found out the man was his uncle, a fact that still haunts me to this day.

    Right as the man came on the screen I watched as the boy tensed up with fear. It was with that moment I could feel what happened to him.

    The feeling of fear as he yelled at him.

    The smell of the whisky on his breath as he¡­ I honestly would rather not say. It was too horrifying.

    The feeling of being crammed into a small cabinet under the stairs, each breath becoming somehow harder than the last until it just became too much to handle.

    I contacted the cops where I talked to an officer named Naomi. She obviously had questions on just how trustworthy of a source a young teenage boy who claimed to see dead children was.

    Luckily, she gave me a chance. Maybe it was the fact she believed in the afterlife. Maybe she was just desperate. I¡¯m not sure she¡¯ll ever tell me exactly why she trusted me.

    Either way, they found the body and arrested the son of a bitch.

    As soon as they announced the arrest, the young boy smiled, before slowly vanishing into thin air. That was when it clicked.

    At first, I thought the gift of seeing the dead was related to my cancer. You know, something like one foot between this world and the next that allowed me to see both realms. That¡¯d make a lot of sense. Way more sense than some laptop giving you some super power.

    I believed it right up until I looked in my computer''s files and saw an out of place readme file. When I opened it, I was shocked. Like my videos here, it detailed my abilities in shocking detail. Apparently the previous owner of the laptop also had this power, and before him some lady with an old book. Honestly, I¡¯m not sure how far it goes back. They didn¡¯t say exactly, but it goes back to way before you or I were born.

    So yeah, my gift, and now yours, is to help these spirits find their way home.

    ###

    With that, the screen went blank. I felt the hair on my arm stiffen. I grabbed my laptop and navigated to the CD folder.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ insane!¡± Murph¡¯s voice broke the stillness.

    I watched as the folder opened and a collection of files filled my vision. I scrolled down. I wanted to find the last file he uploaded.

    ¡°Check this out, the last file he uploaded was two months ago." February 6th, 2007. Do you think he actually died? Maybe I¡¯ll see him?¡± My voice trembled.

    Murph pulled out some chips from his backpack, walked across the room and sank into a large bean bag chair he had under a picture of Master Chief from Halo. He turned off the television, the background noise had been playing the melodic intro music from the game. I hadn''t even noticed.

    The room grew uncomfortably silent as he started devouring the chips, clearly in some sort of deep thought. I was always envious of how he could eat so much, yet still look so thin. Especially when he would nervous eat like this. He reminded me a little bit of Shaggy from Scooby-Doo in that way.

    Murph fully finished his bite before continuing. ¡°You know, my dad has that big collection of newspapers. Maybe we can find something about this Alex guy or the young boy in there?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s brilliant! If we can prove that he¡¯s not really dead, we can prove this is a crazy hoax.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, at least my dad''s newspapers have a purpose now instead of them piling up on the fireplace.¡±

    ¡°Well what are we waiting for?!¡± I said. I got out of my chair and started to make a turn toward the stairs, but the clock on his nightstand stole my attention. My heart sank. In all this excitement, I completely forgot my parents'' rule to be home by seven. I was already thirty minutes late. I looked out the window and saw the sun start to set on the horizon.

    ¡°Shit. I¡¯ll have to take a rain check! I¡¯m late for dinner. You know how angry my mom gets!¡± I started to collect my belongings into my bag to make the mile-long run home.

    Murph spoke up, ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. I¡¯ll check tonight and see what I can find. My dad is taking my little brother to scouts anyway, so he won''t even know I touched anything.¡±

    ¡°Sounds good! Send me a message on AIM. I¡¯ll try to be on tonight if I¡¯m not grounded,¡± I said. I turned and bolted down the street.

    ¡°Get home safe,¡± I heard him yell as I ran off into the distance.

    ###

    The sun started to dip below the horizon, as I sprinted down the quiet streets of Ravenwood. I felt the wind pick up as darkness settled in. I''d been out after dark more times than I could count, and never once did I feel a shred of unease. But tonight was different.

    I darted through neighbors'' yards, my usual shortcut to shave off precious minutes from my run. As I neared the old farmhouse, the last yard to pass on my way home, I hesitated. Normally, I''d dart through the yard and down the drainage ditch without a second thought, but tonight, I found myself frozen, staring at the house like it had just grown eyes and was staring back at me.

    The farmhouse, old and creaky, stood there as the final hold of a time long forgotten. With the darkness outside, I could see right into the old man''s living room. There he was, hunched over a TV dinner, chewing methodically.

    My gaze wandered around the room¡ªwas that a deer head mounted above the fireplace? And were those guns hanging on the wall?

    I¡¯d run past this house countless times, never giving it a second thought.

    Now, thanks to Alex¡¯s comments, I couldn¡¯t stop myself. It was like something was calling out into the night to stop and watch. This was the creepiest house in the neighborhood. Kids used to joke about how he locked children up in his padlocked garage. It made me wonder what he was hiding there.

    The thought felt absurd, yet it stuck in my mind like a splinter.

    Calm down, Joe. You''re just letting that kid''s story get to you. This is Ravenwood, for crying out loud¡ªpeople leave their keys in their cars here!

    The porch creaked. I flinched, my eyes snapping to the rocking chair that swayed gently. It must have been the wind. Just the wind.

    I turned back to the window¡ªthe old man was gone. My stomach tightened. Where did he go?

    Then, a hand slapped against the glass, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. Dark, beady eyes peered out, locking onto mine. My heart thundered in my chest. Behind him, a shadow moved. It was a teenage girl. There was something different about her though. A slight glow to her silhouette. I thought he lived alone. As the curtain was drawn shut, my legs finally obeyed, and I bolted.

    I dashed down the side of the house. My feet hit the edge of the drainage ditch, and I stumbled, crashing face-first into the cold, hard concrete.

    Pain attempted to shoot through me, but I barely registered it, adrenaline was taking full control. I glanced at my hand, wet and sticky with... blood. I was bleeding, and it wasn''t just a scrape. Blood was gushing down the side of my cheek, coating the grass in a red silky substance.

    I scrambled to my feet and ran, adrenaline pushing me forward. I didn''t stop until I reached my house, my sanctuary.

    As I turned the final corner, I caught sight of my mom sitting on the porch steps, arms crossed, a stern look etched on her face. Oh man, I was in for it now.

    I peeked into the window of my bedroom, visible from the driveway. There standing in the window staring down at me was the young woman I had seen from the farmhouse.

    I pointed up to the window, my mom turned to look.

    ¡°What are you pointing at? What happened to your face?¡± she asked, turning back to me.

    She didn¡¯t see her? Oh, the boy was right. Fuck...

 2. What to Expect For Your First Time (Seeing Ghosts)

    I always thought the first time I had a girl in my bedroom would be a magical experience. This wasn¡¯t exactly what I meant.

    I looked around my room. I had the navy blue and grey bed bath and beyond comforter set that seemingly every boy my age had. Unlike theirs, mine lay in a tangled mess on my bed. My floor was covered in half worn clothes and candy wrappers that had fallen out of the pockets, as well as a silver trashcan that was slowly overflowing.

    At least my prized command center, which sat on the other side from my bed, had remained for the most part junk free. As a teenage boy, I had to count that as a win.

    I took a deep breath. For the first time, I noticed a lingering aroma of smelly teenage feet that I had apparently grown nose blind to. Mom always said if you don¡¯t keep your room clean you¡¯ll be embarrassed when a girl comes over. They don¡¯t like dirty smelly bedrooms.

    Damnit, I hate it when she¡¯s right. I reached down and picked up some of the old clothes on my floor and promptly disposed of them into the adjacent laundry basket. I did my best to catch a glance of her without making it awkward.

    She sat on my bed, an attire of flared bell-bottom jeans that was complete with a pink polo that covered her slim frame. Her long brown hair cascaded in soft waves as she tilted her head to watch as I cleaned. If it weren¡¯t for the faint glow that seemed to emanate from her, I would have sworn she was a living, breathing girl. Even now, my mind struggled to grasp the reality of her presence.

    It was hard to tell for sure, but she had to either be from my time, or, judging strictly by the bell-bottom jeans, from sometime in the 1970s.

    Above her was some Green day, Shinedown, and Pink Floyd posters. The Pink Floyd poster featured the backside of six naked women, who sat facing away with their backs covered in artwork from different albums. I hoped she didn''t take offense to that.

    I surveyed the rest of my surroundings as I tried to process the situation I found myself in. That didn¡¯t help. This was one fucked up situation. I mean, there was a literal, beautiful-but-dead teenager sitting on my bed. Had she been alive, most teenage boys would have found this moment to be a dream come true.

    Wait, maybe that¡¯s it. It¡¯s not real, it¡¯s just a dream! Maybe I hit my head on the concrete harder than I thought. There was a lot of blood. Perhaps I¡¯m peacefully sleeping away in some hospital. Oh man, what if I¡¯m a vegetable now?

    My panic halted as she rose and began to walk, or rather, glide toward me, her legs not quite moving in sync with her motion. That confirmed one thing about the girl. She wasn¡¯t a real, living human. I must be dreaming.

    As she approached, the hair on my neck stood up. The air around me chilled, like stepping into a cold spot in a warm room.

    She reached for my wrist. Instead of the cold touch I expected, her hand was warm and comforting, like sunlight on a summer day.

    ¡°Hello,¡± I managed to say.

    She didn¡¯t respond. Instead, she gripped my wrist tighter and pulled me toward what looked like my bed.

    ¡°Oh, no thanks,¡± I tried to pull back. ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s a good idea. Really though, I¡¯m flattered. I have a girlfriend. She lives in Canada.¡±

    I¡¯m not sure why I lied. I certainly did not have a girlfriend. I¡¯ve never even been to Canada. That was such an unnecessary detail. Man, I''m so awkward around girls.

    As she pulled harder, I felt that strange connection reform deep inside my gut. It was faint at first, but undeniable. This might be what Alex mentioned about them communicating. I listened, letting the feeling wash over me.

    She wasn¡¯t trying to sleep with me. That was a relief.

    Instead, she was trying to show me something. I wasn¡¯t sure exactly what. I hesitantly gave in and walked with her to my bed, which we promptly continued past until we reached the window that overlooked the driveway. I felt my cheeks turn red from embarrassment.

    She pointed out into the darkness, toward the area where I had first seen her.

    ¡°Hold on, You want us to head back to that house? Are you sure?¡±

    She stared at me, unmoved. Regardless of her lack of words, I knew that¡¯s what she wanted.

    I had a flashback to the look on that man''s eyes as he closed the blinds. I shivered thinking about what he might do if he saw me again. I had no intention of returning anytime soon. In fact, I was already considering a new route home, but she didn¡¯t need to know that.

    ¡°I can¡¯t. My mom grounded me,¡± I lied. I hoped she¡¯d believe it.

    The response was immediate¡ªa sharp pain in my gut, as if I¡¯d been punched. I hunched over as I tried to hush the screams.

    Why didn¡¯t Alex start with the fact they can do this? That would have been useful information! I reached my hand in the air trying to signal my white flag.

    I yelped, as I struggled to regain my breath, ¡°Please stop, I¡¯ll help! But I have to wait until everyone falls asleep.¡±

    The pain in my gut slowly released. Seconds later, it was like it was never there.

    She backed up and returned to sit on the bed. The room became uncomfortably silent as I waited for her to leave. She stayed seated.

    ¡°So are you going to just sit there and watch me till we go?¡± I asked, already knowing no response was going to come. It was going to take me some time to get used to someone keeping an eye on me like I¡¯m some kid in detention.

    I heard a knock at the door. Shit, she must have heard me yelling.

    ¡°Hunny, are you alright? I heard a scream. Is it ok if I come in?¡± She didn¡¯t wait for an answer.

    ¡°Mom, you can¡¯t just barge in here!¡±

    I watched as she looked over to the pile where my laundry used to be. I¡¯m not sure I had ever seen such a shocked look on her face. ¡°Wow, did you pick up your laundry? Are you sure you don¡¯t have a concussion?¡±

    Shit, she noticed the laundry.

    I glanced over to the bed. The ghost girl was gone. When I turned back I found out where she went. She stood next to my mom. She looked her up and down, like she was the rack at a blockbuster video.

    ¡°Oh.. don¡¯t!¡± I instinctively yelled out.

    ¡°Don¡¯t what?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about my laundry mom. I want to start doing it myself. You know, with college starting soon.¡±

    I can¡¯t believe that was the excuse that came out of my mouth.

    ¡°Oh. Well, that¡¯s something new. I¡¯m proud of you Joe joe. Look at you growing up before my eyes. Anyway, I won¡¯t bug you, I just brought you up this ice pack to help stop your cheek from bruising.¡±

    ¡°Oh thanks mom.¡± I walked over to take the ice pack, and to partially push her out of my room.

    I watched as she shivered, ¡°It¡¯s so cold in here! There is a heater in the basement if you need it.¡±

    ¡°Great! Thanks mom, anyways it¡¯s getting late. I¡¯m going to call it a night.¡± I said, as I pushed her out of the room.

    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°Oh ok, well have a good night¡±

    The door closed. That was close. I held the ice pack to my face. Oh man, that felt amazing!

    Alright, tomorrow I¡¯ll have to look up how to do laundry. For now, I need to know more about my predicament. I pulled out my laptop and booted up the CD. I was hoping Alex had some information on how to get some privacy.

    I read through the titles of the videos he had made, hopeful to find one that fit my current situation. There was one titled ¡°So you fucked up.¡± I hoped that wasn¡¯t a foreshadowing of tonight''s events. I decided it was best to watch that one when I really needed it.

    Here we go, ¡°What To Expect For Your First Time.¡± I chuckled. It seems this Alex kid had a similar sense of humor as I did. Perhaps we could have been friends had I met him earlier in life. I opened the video and watched as the monitor flipped to show Alex¡¯s face.

    ###

    Hello, Bob. I¡¯ve decided that I need to call you something for my own sanity. When I talk to a camera lens it sort of freaks me out.

    So I¡¯m going to stick with Bob. I hope you don¡¯t mind. Crap, what if you¡¯re a girl. I can¡¯t go with Bob, it¡¯s too manly. Damn, I really liked the name Bob. Maybe I can go with something more gender-neutral like Sam.

    Screw it, how about I just call you future me for now.

    So future me, I¡¯m going to guess by now you met someone new. If not, this section will help prepare you for the inevitable.

    Now it sounds like I¡¯m talking to myself in the future. Whatever, it works. Don¡¯t judge me. Sorry, let me try this again.

    We all attract ghosts, even before you had this power. Sometimes I think they are just lonely, looking for someone who can help them find their next part in the afterlife.

    That¡¯s why I think they are so excited to find you. You see them, and that gives them hope. How they know you can see them, I¡¯m not exactly sure. Something about this new power draws ghosts in like a moth to a flame.

    Unfortunately, now that you¡¯ve lit that flame, there is no putting it out. I know it¡¯s at least crossed your mind once so far¡ªno, you can¡¯t just destroy or get rid of the laptop. Trust me, I tried¡­ multiple times. It just keeps reappearing in your room a few hours later.

    Anyways, future me, you should know a few things about ghosts. I¡¯m going to do my best to break the different spirits you might encounter into four types. You should know, these are my personal categorizations and do not reflect some established set out there.

    I will say, I scoured the internet to look for established guidelines and most disagree with me. That being said, I can see ghosts and they can¡¯t, so I¡¯ll let you decide who¡¯s right.

    I''ll make a whole video on each type, so for now, I''ll keep these descriptions short.

    First, I''ll start with the familiar one. The Tragics are the hardest to deal with, for me personally. The little boy I mentioned in my last video is a perfect example. These are ghosts that have died from either an accident or something potentially worse and usually have some sort of disfigured look.

    The next type of spirit you¡¯ll see I call the Attached. Their name is exactly how it sounds. As far as I can tell, these ghosts have had their spirits unfortunately attached to some object. You¡¯ll need to most likely burn whatever it is they are attached to before they can move on.

    On that note, go buy yourself a lighter, you¡¯re probably going to need it way more now than you ever expected to. Plus, they¡¯ll make you look badass and they¡¯re just plain fun.

    Similar to the Attached, there are the Protectors. You may see them following another person around. I think they¡¯re what people commonly call guardian angels. There isn¡¯t much to do with them. You can¡¯t go around burning the human they are attached to, no matter how much that person may deserve it, so it¡¯s probably best to just leave them alone.

    The last and probably scariest looking are the Vengeful Spirits. If by now you¡¯ve seen a spirit, you¡¯ll notice that they look like a normal human, minus the weird glow and lack of communication skills. Vengeful spirits I¡¯ve never seen in person, but from what I read in the previous file given to me, they look like this.

    Hopefully, you can see it¡ªthis is the ghost of Christmas future from that muppets Christmas special. I tried to use this new video editing software and it¡¯s not going well. So If you can¡¯t see it, go look it up.

    Vengeful spirits seem to be attracted to those planning evil. It was described to me like a group of ants swarming on a picnic basket.

    The previous person mentions only seeing it once, just before the Oklahoma City Bombing in the 90s. He didn¡¯t understand it at the time and mentioned it still haunts him to know over 150 people died that day. I truly hope you never see one of them.

    That¡¯s pretty much all I have for this video. Oh one more thing, don¡¯t piss them off. They can tell when you¡¯re lying and trust me, they don¡¯t appreciate it. Your best bet is to be honest with them.

    That¡¯s all for now. I hope you had luck with your first encounter.

    ###

    I closed the video. She knew I was lying about why I didn¡¯t want to go. Interesting. I still wish Alex would have mentioned that in his introduction video.

    Either way that was a lot to unpack. I did not see the picture he mentioned, but a guy from a muppets movie can¡¯t be all that terrifying, right?

    Against my better judgment, I pulled up google and searched for Muppets, Ghost of Christmas Future. HOLY SHIT! That¡¯s a character in a muppets movie? It looked like a weird hybrid of a stone statue and the grim reaper. Why would they put this in a children''s movie?

    I looked at my new companion. At least I was able to confirm this girl was not a vengeful spirit. I wonder what category she does fall into?

    I took a more detailed look at her. She had no visible disfigurement, or at least none that I saw from my desk. She still might be a Tragic though.

    For an Attached, Is it a requirement that she stay by the object she''s attached to? I guess Alex didn¡¯t make that clear.

    She did have a small golden locket around her neck, a heart with the initials NM in the middle. I can¡¯t rule out the object thing either, at least not without more information.

    Crap, that means I can¡¯t rule out the guardian either. This exercise wasn¡¯t turning out to be very helpful.

    I had a little bit of extra time, so I started delving into some of the written files Alex had on the different types of ghosts. It was amazing how close some of this information was to what you saw on television and movies. Unfortunately, there was no talk about if a ghost had to stay next to the item they possessed or not.

    He also attached the number to reach Naomi Johnson. I assume that¡¯s the police woman he talked about in his first video. I tore a piece of paper from my math homework and wrote the number down.

    Crap, I forgot to do my homework. I¡¯ll just copy from Murph in the morning before class. I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll be cool with it.

    I looked at the computer clock. It was just past 11 p.m. By now my family should all be safely asleep. I shot Murph a message on AIM.

    ¡°Hey, if you see this I had something big happen tonight. I¡¯m heading out to the old farmhouse down the street. If you can join, great. If not and you don¡¯t hear from me tomorrow, send the cops.¡±

    If something happened to me tonight, at least I left a trace of my whereabouts. Just to be safe, I set my away status to ¡°Exploring near the old farmhouse.¡±

    ¡°Alright, I think everyone is asleep. Let¡¯s get going¡­¡± I looked up to find my bed empty¡ªno ghost girl in sight.

    ¡°Really, you¡¯re just going to vanish now?¡± I muttered, feeling my frustration rise. I was risking my social life and possibly my actual life for this girl, and she just¡­

    Holy crap! She was right behind me. My heart pounded as I turned. This new ability was definitely going to shorten my lifespan. Apparently they can teleport, it seems obvious now, but good to know.

    ¡°You can¡¯t just sneak up on someone like that. Listen, if I¡¯m going to help you, we need some boundaries. First, no sneaking up on me. And stop hurting me just because you don¡¯t like what I say. That was not cool.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t sure if she understood, but yelling made me feel better.

    ¡°OK, good. Now, be quiet. I don¡¯t want my mom to wake up. I sent my friend Murph a message. If he joins us, don¡¯t go possessing him. Got it?¡±

    With that settled, we snuck out of the house for the first time in my life, heading toward something that would likely change both our lives forever.

    ###

    The old farmhouse was unnervingly eerie even when it tried its hardest to be charming. As I surveyed the house in the dead of night, it was downright terrifying.

    ¡°It looks like the lights are off. That¡¯s good news for us. Hopefully we can get in and out before he has to get up to pee. That could happen at any moment, so be alert¡±, I said to my new companion.

    As expected she didn¡¯t reply. Trying to add light to the situation, I pretended to mock her voice, ¡°Sounds good Joe, you¡¯re so smart and cute!¡±

    I looked over. Was that a momentary smirk I saw on her face? Maybe they do have at least a small sense of humor. This was a promising discovery, one I would need to investigate at a more appropriate time.

    ¡°HEY,¡± a voice yelled from behind me.

    I jumped, half-expecting it to be the old man with his shotgun aimed at me. Wait a minute, I knew that voice. That wasn¡¯t the voice of an old man at all, it was the voice of my best friend since we first sat together in Miss Lemons 3rd grade class.

    I turned to confirm my suspicion. Relief washed over me as I saw Murph approach. ¡°Hey, glad you were able to make it. Did you have any trouble?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Are you kidding me, have you met my family? My little brother sneaks out all the time.¡±

    The house lights flickered on. ¡°Shit, find somewhere to hide,¡± I yelled, as I jumped into the bushes.

    I watched as the door swung open, exposing the old man. He had something big in his hand. Was that a gun? Shit, I can¡¯t tell from these bushes. I tried to maneuver myself to get a better look. It was no use, it was too dark.

    I watched as he walked down the porch steps and down the side of his house towards the garage. Why would he have a gun and where is he going? A sudden realization washed over me. I think it''s entirely possible I wasn¡¯t ready for my first mission.

 3. The Price of Power

    It was like a piece of my life was ripped from my memory. The last thing I remembered was that I closed my eyes with the hope that when I opened them I¡¯d be safely back inside of my room. Instead, when I opened my eyes, I found myself somewhere else entirely.

    Did I time travel? I was pretty sure time travel isn¡¯t real. Then again, until today I was convinced ghosts weren¡¯t real either.

    This place appears to be from another time.. It looked like the set of that 70¡¯s show, a complete mismatch of greens, yellows, and browns as far as the eye could see.

    Why did it feel like I needed to continue further into the house? I need to find something important. However, I¡¯m not sure what it is.

    I moved slowly from the mudroom to the living room. It felt like there was something I needed to see in this room.

    I found myself drawn toward a large antique fireplace. I noticed a collection of guns mounted on the wall next to it. I counted three guns and four mounts. The numbers didn¡¯t add up. That felt concerning, but why?

    There was a collection of old photos on the mantle. Perhaps these were what I was looking for?

    One photo caught my attention. It was a photo of a young girl, her long brown hair caught the light just right, she wore a smile as bright as the sun. She held up a small fish in triumphant fashion. Beside her stood an older man, probably in his forties, pride written all over his face.

    There was another photo¡ªa holiday party, by the looks of it. It featured the same man, this time with an elderly woman around his age, her neck adorned with a gold locket. Was that the same locket the ghost girl wore? I leaned in closer, squinting to make out the initials, but they were too faded to be sure.

    I scanned the other photos, searching for a clearer view. While I looked, the ghost girl appeared beside me. This was new¡ªher expression was now tinged with sadness. I¡¯d seen her with a neutral look or with a smile, but never like this. Now, there was a weight to her presence, a heaviness that made me feel like I was intruding on something deeply personal. In a way, I probably was.

    ¡°Was this you in the photo?¡±

    She didn¡¯t answer. Instead, she floated toward the kitchen, her movement slow, deliberate, almost like she was leading me somewhere. I followed, because what else was I going to do? I had no idea where else I would go. To be honest with myself, I¡¯m still not even sure where I was or what I was looking for. Going with her felt like the right move, for now.

    The kitchen was another relic of the past, with its vintage blue fridge and an oven that looked straight out of the 60s. Unlike the garish living room, this space had a certain charm, an almost nostalgic appeal.

    I looked at the ghost girl. She clearly wasn''t interested in the decor. Whatever connection we had felt stronger here. It was like I felt her sadness. I did my best to hold back tears..

    She wanted me there. It was her that wanted me to see these things. It felt so obvious.

    My gaze followed hers to the dining room table. It was set for three people. Was someone else here? Or had there been? I don¡¯t remember ever seeing another person. I took note of the whiskey bottle and glass on the table that appeared mostly finished off. That was strange.

    I felt myself seize back control of my body, with it, the calmness that washed over me seemed to vanish in an instant. I was suddenly all too aware of my situation.

    Wait, the old man. This was his house, what the hell was I doing here? Breaking and entering, that¡¯s what. How had I been so calm about it? I wasn¡¯t a criminal. This wasn¡¯t like me at all.

    Yet here I was, my hand wrapped around a used bottle of whiskey. I stood in the old man¡¯s kitchen, rifling through his life. Oh man, there was a missing gun from his collection. That must have been a gun in his hand when I saw him earlier.

    I felt my fight or flight instinct kick in. I was definitely not a fighter. I was ready to bolt when a knock on the kitchen window stopped me cold.

    A voice yelled out from the other end of the window, it was faint but clear.

    ¡°He¡¯s coming back!¡± It was Murphs voice. I saw him point at something¡ªa door. Murph, you genius. I threw him a thumbs up and opened the door. It led to a basement. Of course it did.

    I¡¯ve always had an irrational fear of basements. As a kid, my mom used to send me down to turn off the light, and I¡¯d bolt up the stairs like the devil himself was after me. Now, with actual ghosts in my life, the fear was worse. What if they weren¡¯t the friendly kind?

    My attention was redirected to a sound in the other room. The front door creaked open. It wouldn''t take long now, he¡¯d be here soon.

    Well, crap. I didn¡¯t have a choice now. I stepped onto the basement stairs, easing the door shut behind me, praying it wouldn¡¯t draw attention. I did my best to keep the stairs from creaking as I slowly descended them, but in a house this old my best didn¡¯t account for much.

    It was dark down here, the only light coming from a small window on the other side of the room.

    A knock on that same window caught my attention. I¡¯d bet anything it was Murph.

    Honestly, I couldn¡¯t believe he was still here with me. Would I have stayed if the roles were reversed and it was him who broke into someone''s house? Possibly. But I definitely would have given him a lot of shit about it afterwards. One of the best traits about the guy was his ability to do anything without question.

    As I made my way toward the window, I slammed my knee into something hard and wooden. Pain shot through me, but I bit back a scream, doing my best to stay silent.

    Still, the noise had been loud enough for the old man to potentially hear me. I stood still, ears straining for any sounds from upstairs.

    Man I hated it here, is this my life now? I don¡¯t want to be constantly trying to hide in the basement of murderers. I mean he¡¯s not for sure a murderer, but come on. Who keeps a basement this messy if they were a nice normal person.

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Once I was sure the coast was clear, I continued to the window. When I reached it, I realized just how flawed my plan was¡ªthe window was at least seven feet off the ground. I was barely six feet on a good day and not the most athletic.

    I jumped, trying to grab the latch, but jumping in the dark wasn¡¯t exactly easy. On my second attempt, my fingers caught hold, and I managed to pry the window open a few inches, enough to see Murph¡¯s face peering in.

    ¡°Hey, I brought this with me. Maybe you can use it to find something to climb on,¡± Murph said, tossing down a flashlight.

    ¡°You always seem so prepared.¡±

    ¡°One of us has to be prepared when one best friend goes off the rails. Then tells the other to go home to safety, before they risk their life to sneak into someone''s house. As dumb as you are, I wasn''t going to just leave you here alone.¡±

    I don¡¯t remember telling him to go home. That''s concerning. At this point it was another confusing thing to add to the list of unanswered questions about what was happening to me. A list that seemed to be growing at an unnervingly quick rate.

    ¡°Thanks. I think I bumped into a table earlier. I¡¯ll see if I can use it.¡±

    The flashlight was exactly what I needed. I turned it on, casting a beam over the room. This place was a disaster¡ªjunk piled everywhere. Honestly, it was a miracle I¡¯d only hit that one table.

    A large knocking sound caught my attention in the corner of the room. I aimed the flashlight toward the sound, but it dimmed, almost going fully out. That wasn¡¯t a good sign.

    The noise had come from an old armoire at the other end of the room. The flashlight dimmed again. I didn¡¯t have much time, but something told me I had to know what was in there. I walked over to it.

    I opened the first drawer. Inside was the locket from the picture. It sat neatly in a box with a transparent top. The initials NM were etched into the metal.

    On the back of the box were the words, property of Nicole Monroe. This was definitely the same locket. That had to be her name. I don¡¯t understand why he had this down here.

    I opened the top section of the armoire. They creaked, the sound loud enough to make me wince. It was like no one had touched this thing in years.

    What I saw inside made my stomach turn. Hanging on the rack was a collection of teenage girls¡¯ clothes. Among them, a pink polo with a dark, ominous stain on the back.

    Blood. It was blood! Oh god why?

    The old man must have kept her clothes as trophies. This wasn¡¯t just an old house¡ªit was a monument to his crimes. No wonder he never sold the place.

    The basement door creaked open, and I scrambled behind a pile of junk, killing the flashlight. I raised my hands to pray. I wasn¡¯t sure who I was praying to, just to whoever it was that wanted to listen. Please, let him not see me.

    The stairs creaked as he descended, each step echoing in my head like the countdown to my doom. Was this it? Was I going to die in some psycho¡¯s basement, all because I couldn¡¯t leave well enough alone?

    ¡°Who¡¯s down there?¡± His voice was rough, filled with anger. ¡°I¡¯ve got a gun, and I¡¯m not afraid to use it!¡±

    I caught a faint hint of whiskey as he stumbled toward me. He had been drinking. I could hear each uneven step as he tried to maintain his balance. He knocked into items as he tried to navigate.

    I heard a pile of junk fall over next to me. He had apparently been using it to try and maintain his balance.

    I imagined him throwing me in his little dungeon where he kept his victims. Slowly torturing me until my body gave out from exhaustion. At least I had thought ahead and told people where I was.

    By now, hopefully Murph was running to the police for help. Maybe they would make it to me in time for them to save my ass. That¡¯s assuming he didn¡¯t just shoot me here and now.

    I felt him stand above me. This time, my fight or flight senses never triggered. Well, that was unfortunate.

    I stood as still as I possibly could, but it was only a matter of time before he found me. This was it. A day after learning ghosts existed, I was about to become one. Hopefully, I skip this step and cross right over to the afterlife.

    You know, they say your life flashes before your eyes in moments like this, but mine didn¡¯t. Instead, I saw her¡ªthe ghost girl, a teenager who¡¯d been snuffed out before her time, her dreams and hopes lost to a twisted mind.

    I saw Alex, who¡¯d stared death in the face every day, knowing his time was limited.

    And I saw Murph, kicking the basement window in with all his strength, sending it flying off its hinges.

    Wait, that wasn¡¯t a memory. He really just did that. That crazy SOB!

    The old man turned, cursing as he ran toward the broken window. That was my cue. I bolted from behind the pile, racing up the stairs two at a time.

    ¡°Hey stop! I¡¯ll shoot!¡± I heard him yell after me, but I didn¡¯t look back.

    I ran like my life depended on it¡ªbecause it did.

    ###

    Murph and I parted ways with a plan to sync up on AIM once we were both safely home. Luckily, I managed to slip back into my house unnoticed. At least something went right tonight.

    I caught sight of him looking me over as if to make sure I was mentally alright before he let me go. Honestly, I wasn¡¯t so sure. Something was wrong with me. There was so much about this new ability I had yet to understand.

    The girl was still with me, sitting once again on the bed, her expression returned to the melancholic gaze I''d seen before.

    Maybe it was just my mind playing tricks on me, but there was a feeling of disappointment surrounding her that hadn¡¯t been there earlier. I guess uncovering the truth about her wasn¡¯t enough to bring her peace.

    I sat at my desk, the house phone heavy in my hand. It was late, but I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that I had to tell someone what I found. I dug into my pockets, fingers fumbling until I finally found the crumpled piece of paper with Naomi Johnson¡¯s number on it.

    With a deep breath, I dialed the numbers. The phone rang, but quickly went to voicemail.

    ¡°Hello, you¡¯ve reached Detective Johnson with the Ravenwood Police Department. I¡¯m unable to get to your phone call right now. Please leave a message after the beep with your name and number, and I¡¯ll try to get back to you as soon as I can. If this is an emergency, please hang up and call 911.¡±

    Beep.

    For a moment, I just sat there, the phone pressed to my ear, words stuck in my throat. What the hell do I even say? Hey, I¡¯m the new ghost guy in town, and I just broke into an old farmhouse and found a dead girl¡¯s clothes? Yeah, that¡¯ll go over well.

    But I couldn¡¯t just hang up, either. I had to say something.

    ¡°Uh, hi, this is Joe. I¡¯m a friend of Alex. He told me to call you if I ever needed someone who believed. I, uh, I think something terrible happened at the old farmhouse on 143rd and East Raven Way. I believe a young girl was murdered there. A long time ago, maybe. I¡¯m actually confident. She pretty much told me so.¡±

    I hung up before I could second-guess myself, the exhaustion of the day finally crashing over me. The girl was still there, perched on my bed, her sad eyes following me as I set the phone down. I was too tired to deal with trying to force her out of my bed tonight. The floor would have to do. Sleep would have to wait. I needed to talk to Murph about what happened.

    I pulled up a chat window on my laptop. ¡°Hey, we need to look up information on a girl named Nicole Monroe. I believe she¡¯s the ghost I see. Something happened to her.¡±

    I stared at the screen, waiting for a reply, but my eyelids were growing heavier by the second. Maybe if I just rested my head on the desk for a minute¡­

    The darkness crept in, pulling me into its warm embrace. The room faded away, and just as I was about to slip into unconsciousness, a voice whispered in my ear, soft and haunting, like the sound of the sea through a conch shell.

    ¡°Please. He needs your help.¡±

    I jolted awake, my heart hammered in my chest. The sun appeared to be on the rise, a natural alarm. I had apparently slept through the night.

    What did she mean? Who needs my help? I glanced at my laptop. I had ten missed messages from Murph. Well Crap. I tried to read over them, my vision still a bit hazy.

    It was information he found about the girl. Had he stayed up all night to research this? He linked to a news article about a girl who died in a car wreck with the same name.

    A car wreck? That couldn''t have been her. She was murdered. None of this was adding up.

    My head started to spin.

    I scrolled down to the last message just said, ¡°Joe, we need to talk. I think we screwed up.¡±

    Oh man, that''s not good.

 4. The Protector

    Big Al¡¯s Catfish Haven was the number 3 ranked seafood restaurant on Yelp for the area of Ravenwood. That may sound like an impressive feat until you learn there were only 4 seafood themed locations in the entire town. That¡¯s less of an accomplishment and more like being the best-dressed guy at a nudist colony.

    The fact there were even four seafood restaurants in this Midwestern town that was nowhere near a coast was a small miracle in itself. What really blew my mind was that one of these places was somehow rated worse than Big Al¡¯s.

    I spent 3-4 days a week at this dump as one of four part time busboys. I had zero interest in walking into that 4th placed location.

    For now however, I was stuck in the back room of the restaurant, carefully cutting off the ¡°Shipped from China¡± labels printed on the boxes of lobster that had just arrived.

    Big Al was a proud man- but he was also a cheap lying bastard. ¡°Only the freshest fish brought in straight from Maine,¡± he¡¯d boast, even printing it boldly at the top of every menu.

    Yet, every week, the same scene played out. The delivery would come in, Al would put on a grand show of how the boxes were ¡°mislabeled,¡± and then he¡¯d assign me or another busboy to remove every incriminating sticker.

    According to one of the other busboys, lying about the authenticity of where your fish comes from is some sort of health code violation. I never really bothered to look up if that was a real rule or not. The inspector would have had plenty of other violations to hand out when they did finally stop in.

    The job was easy, though, and it gave me time to focus on more important things, like the fact that I woke up this morning to a string of messages from my best friend, informing me that everything I did last night¡ªfrom the breaking and entering to the call I made to Naomi¡ªwas probably based on an incorrect assumption I made.

    I wanted to blame Nicole for this. If she had just told me her name when she first met me, this entire misunderstanding would have never occurred. However, the real issue was me. I judged the man based strictly on how he and his property made me feel. It was a rookie mistake and one I didn¡¯t plan to make again.

    According to the article Murph found, Nicole Monroe was a high school junior in 1997. And yes, I completely misjudged the time-frame of her existence.

    Anyway, Nicole and a friend had snuck out to attend a house party in a small rural barn just outside of town. Toxicology reports showed someone had spiked their drinks, and the girls passed out. When Nicole woke up a few hours later, she panicked, terrified of what had happened and desperate to get home before her father found out. In her frightened state, she abandoned her friend and attempted to drive home, still under the influence.

    She never made it. A few days later, her car was found half-submerged in a creek bed, not far from her house. She had died on impact, just a few miles from home.

    I knew that creek bed. Murph and I used to bike along it in junior high. I had no idea something so horrible had happened there.

    For months, Nicole¡¯s story was used to warn students about the dangers of date rape drugs. Posters with her picture were hung in schools across the area. Murph sent me a link to one, and it was definitely her¡ªlocket and all.

    Another article mentioned she was survived by her father, Harry Monroe, and her late mother, Nancy, who had died of breast cancer a few years prior.

    She must have been the older woman in the picture with the man now known as Harry. Harry, whose house I broke into last night and assumed murdered a young woman. Not just any young woman, his own daughter.

    He must have been so distraught by the situation that he felt the need to keep her clothes and necklace around as a countless reminder of her existence. That poor man. No wonder he drank.

    That still doesn¡¯t explain why she decided to stand next to me, to watch as I cut these boxes. I¡¯m pretty convinced she''s either an Attached or Protector at this point.

    I looked over at Nicole, she had been stuck here in ghost form for almost ten years now. That¡¯s over half my life with no one to talk to, no one to interact with, and no one to love. No wonder she felt the need to follow me. It must be a lonely afterlife. I still need to help her move on.

    Unfortunately, It was going to be hard to get into that basement now with Harry on full alert.

    Speaking of Harry, I should probably call Naomi back. I kept replaying the scene over and over in my head, but the conversation always ended poorly for me. I didn¡¯t leave a number, and didn¡¯t use my name. Maybe I should just shred the number and forget it. She¡¯d probably dismiss it as some teenage prank anyways and leave it at that.

    I went to cut the last label. Distracted, I nicked my hand in the process. A small cut of blood trickled down my finger. At this point I was just adding insult to injury. My body felt like a wreck. I grabbed a small paper towel and wrapped it around my finger.

    With the labels finally off the boxes, I was ready to return to my regularly scheduled role as the underpaid, under-appreciated busboy.

    Fortunately, early afternoons on football Sundays weren¡¯t peak hours in Ravenwood. I cleared a few tables and noticed that no ghosts were lingering around the restaurant, outside of my usual companion. Then again, with only a handful of tables occupied and the day still young, who knew what would happen.

    Wait, was it the end of Lent this week? I''ll have to ask one of the other busboys to cover my shift on Friday. Today was manageable, but this place during the dinner rush on a Lenten Friday was a different beast altogether. It was not worth the risk, even if the money was good.

    I headed to the dish room, eager to drop off the dishes with Terry, our dishwasher, and then check the game scores at the bar.

    I normally didn¡¯t mind interacting with Terry. He was cheerful, if a bit slow, with a thick, almost Cajun-like accent that made him hard to understand. But for a man in his sixties, he was incredibly efficient. Which I appreciated.

    No one knew Terry¡¯s backstory for sure, but the leading rumor was that his mother was a drug addict who dropped him on his head as a baby, causing severe brain damage. It sounded plausible, though I hoped it wasn¡¯t true. Big Al had taken him in about five years ago, offering him a job and a place to stay. It was out of character for Al, but I guess everyone has their soft spots.

    I put the dishes down carefully, trying not to draw Terry¡¯s attention. Then I froze. There was a woman standing behind him. Not a woman, a ghost. Apparently, Terry had his own ghost.

    She was around Terry''s age, maybe a bit older, even in ghost form. I guess you remain the same age visually as you were when you died. That explained why my ghost girl looked so young. So either I need to die young or make sure I don¡¯t turn into a ghost. That shouldn¡¯t be too hard with this new ability.

    ¡°Hey, Terry, how¡¯s it going this morning?¡± I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

    ¡°Doin¡¯ great, boss. Still livin¡¯, still workin¡¯. Roof over my head. How ¡¯bout yourself?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m good, man. That¡¯s great to hear!¡±

    How do I approach this? I can¡¯t just say hey Terry, do you know there¡¯s a dead woman standing behind you? I needed to lead him into the situation.

    ¡°Mind if I ask you a personal question?¡±

    ¡°Shoot, boss. I¡¯m an open book. Ain¡¯t got no secrets.¡±

    ¡°You got any family around town? I swear I saw someone who looked a lot like you yesterday when I was out shopping.¡±

    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    ¡°Me? Nah, no family here. Mom dead, dad dead, sister dead. I¡¯m the last one, boss. Only family I got left is Big Boss Al. He took me in, gave me this job and some money for smokes and magazines. Probably be dead without him.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s rough, man. Bet you miss your folks.¡±

    ¡°My daddy left when I was knee-high to a hopper. Ain¡¯t even know what he looked like. Momma, she was a good lady. Worked hard to keep food on the table. But she died.¡±

    ¡°And your sister?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s my guardian angel. Kept me goin¡¯ after Momma died. But she passed. That¡¯s when Big Al took me in. Her and I used to come in every Sunday for those crab legs. She called it payday treat. But then she got sick, and we had to stop comin¡¯. That¡¯s when Mr. Big Al reached out, found me, took me in.¡±

    ¡°This is going to sound weird, but was she about five feet tall, with curly white hair and a large birthmark covering her right eye?¡±

    Terry¡¯s face lit up as he tried to remember. After a few seconds, he turned back to me with the biggest smile I¡¯d ever seen.

    ¡°Now how you know about my sister¡¯s birthmark? You see her right now, don¡¯t ya?¡±

    I smiled back, feeling a tear slide down my cheek.

    ¡°I sure can. And you know what? You¡¯re right¡ªshe is your guardian angel. She¡¯s watching over you right now.¡±

    ¡°I knew it! I felt her. I¡¯ve been really good, Sally Anne. You told me to work hard and listen to Mr. Big Al, and I have. You¡¯d be proud of me.¡±

    The woman walked over and placed her hand on my arm. I felt warmth radiate from her touch.

    ¡°She knows you¡¯ve been a good man, Terry. She wants me to tell you she¡¯s proud of the man you¡¯ve become.¡±

    I didn¡¯t know her exact words, but I tried my best to convey the warmth I felt. After the fuck up I had with Nicole, it felt good to actually help a ghost for once. Just like with Nicole, this woman had to watch as her brother lived his life, stuck to him, but somehow unable to communicate.

    For a sparse but monumental moment, this woman named Sally Anne was able to communicate with him, if only through a proxy like myself.

    I had a sudden realization at the phrase, Just like with Nicole. Those words unlocked the final piece of the puzzle I had been missing. Oh man, it was so obvious! The gun, the whiskey, the pictures. Nicole''s Terry was Harry. It was right in front of me!

    The whispers from Nicole last night. She said, ¡°He needs your help¡±. The he she referred to was Harry. She must be his protector. Unable to stop him from making a horrible decision. Oh god, that¡¯s what he was going to do with that gun.

    It wasn¡¯t to hurt other people at all, it was for himself. We must have interrupted his plans.

    I had my thoughts interrupted by one of the hostesses from the front.

    ¡°Hey, Joe, woah, it¡¯s freezing back here. Sorry to bother you, but there¡¯s a lady in a fancy suit up front asking for you by name. She seems upset.¡±

    She ducked back out, leaving the door swinging.

    My heart stopped. Was I going to prison? If she tracked me down to my workplace, I¡¯m probably in serious trouble. Should I run? No, that would just make things worse. I wasn¡¯t even sure it was Naomi.

    I peeked out of the kitchen and saw a tall Black woman in a dark suit with a light blue top pacing the lobby, a gun holstered at her hip.

    Shit, yeah, that¡¯s a cop. I¡¯m in trouble. And just when the day was starting to look up.

    As I walked toward the front, I caught side glances from customers and employees. Thankfully, the place wasn¡¯t too busy. And as a bonus, my boss wasn¡¯t here. Maybe I¡¯d still have a job if I could talk my way out of the situation.

    ¡°You Joe? Resident of 149th and Kensington Ave?¡± she asked, straight to the point.

    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am, that¡¯s me.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t call me ¡®ma¡¯am.¡¯ That¡¯s for old ladies. I¡¯m not some old lady. Got it? You may refer to me as Detective Johnson.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Ma¡ªI mean, understood, Detective Johnson.¡±

    ¡°Good. Now, I¡¯m going to need you to come down to the station with me. We have some questions we need to ask you about an open case I¡¯m investigating.¡±

    She flashed her badge in my face, making the situation all too real.

    I turned to the hostess. ¡°Hey, I¡¯m going to take a long break. Cover for me?¡±

    ###

    We had been driving for about three minutes. She drove and I sat in the rear of the vehicle, where prisoners would often be transported. I looked around at the metal bars and featureless seats. How do I tell her I fucked up. How much does she even know? We¡¯d barely hit the road when Naomi shattered the awkward silence.

    "Boy, you better have a damn good reason for calling me at 12:30 on a Saturday night. No return number, nothing. You know how much work I had to do to track your scrawny butt down?"

    I fumbled for a response. "I¡¯m sorry, Ma¡¯am."

    "We already talked about the ¡®ma¡¯am¡¯ nonsense."

    "Oh, right. My bad. Shouldn¡¯t have called so late. I¡¯m sorry."

    "Yeah, you should be. So tell me, boy, did you know you were breaking the law when you decided to break into Mr. Monroe¡¯s house last night?"

    My heart plummeted, and for a second, I was sure my life was over. High school graduation? Forget it. College? Not a chance. Best-case scenario, I¡¯d end up flipping burgers for the rest of my life once I got out.

    "We got a call from Mr. Monroe last night. Poor guy was shaken up. Said he caught two teenage boys rummaging through his basement. Didn¡¯t take much for me to connect the dots."

    The car jerked to a halt, pulling over just in front of a Walmart Superstore. I saw Naomi turn to look at me, her expression unreadable.

    "Don¡¯t worry, you¡¯re not under arrest. Count yourself lucky you called my direct line and not the precinct¡¯s."

    Relief washed over me so hard I almost melted into the seat. "Holy crap, thank you so much!"

    "Language, Mr. Raymond. This is a curse-free vehicle, and I expect you to keep that kind of talk under wraps when you¡¯re with me."

    I bit back another curse. "Okay, I understand. It won¡¯t happen again. But I have to ask, why are you helping me?"

    "Don¡¯t ask stupid questions, boy. Just be grateful. Look, I knew Alex well enough to understand that with this gift comes some¡­ let¡¯s just call it quirky behavior."

    I gave her a puzzled look, not sure what she was getting at.

    "I can¡¯t tell you how many times I caught Alex in places he shouldn¡¯t have been. At first, I thought he was lying about blacking out. Then I blamed it on the chemo. Finally I chalked it up to the fact that maybe he just liked the thrill of doing something illegal before he died. It wasn¡¯t until the letter he wrote me about you that I realized it wasn¡¯t under his control."

    Letter? He warned her about a future Alex. Damn that kid was smart.

    ¡°Here, maybe you can get some use out of it.¡±

    Her voice wavered, and I saw her reach up, trying to stop the tears before they had a chance to fall. She reached into her console and grabbed the letter. Then hesitated for a moment, before she finally released it to me.

    ¡°Thank you. I¡¯ll make sure to check it out.¡±

    "I¡¯ll miss that little delinquent. Sharp as a tack until the end, too. Now I¡¯ve got you as a replacement. You¡¯re already breaking and entering, calling me at all hours¡­ It feels a bit like he never left. I think you two would have gotten along."

    She fumbled for a notepad and pen in the front seat, then turned back to me.

    "Alright, let¡¯s talk about that message you sent me. What¡¯s this about a girl being brutally murdered?"

    I looked over to Nicole, then back to Detective Johnson. My words sounded so stupid when I heard her repeat them back to me.

    ¡°Is she in the car with us now?¡± Naomi asked.

    "Yeah, she is. Uh¡­ about that. I think I screwed up. There was a girl there, and everything told me she was murdered, but then I found an article about the girl that made me realize I misunderstood the situation¡­ plus I think I¡¯m still getting used to how they communicate. I do think her father wants to take his life though. I think that¡¯s why she found me."

    She lowered her notepad, her gaze sharp.

    "I see. Well, just this once, I¡¯m going to let it slide because you¡¯re new. As for her father, the best I can do is send a wellness check to his house. They can evaluate his mental state, but it might be a day or two."

    ¡°Thank you so much! That¡¯d be amazing.¡±

    ¡°Next time, don¡¯t call me unless you¡¯re sure about what happened. Also leave that poor man alone. I don¡¯t need you in any more trouble. I saved your behind this time, but I only have so much power around here.¡±

    "Understood. I¡¯ll do my¡ª" My voice cut off as every muscle in my body seized up.

    What the hell was that coming out of the store? Oh fuck! That was the ghost of Christmas Future, or as Alex called it, a vengeful spirit. It was a dead ringer if I¡¯d ever seen one. Wait, it was not just one. There were three of those monsters.

    "Hey, kid. What¡¯s going on? I¡¯ve seen that look before on Alex. You see something." she asked.

    I pointed to a man walking out of the store to his car. He was young, maybe twenty, around six feet tall, and skinny with a small scar on his right cheek. He wore a Broncos hat and a long black leather jacket, and something about him felt off.

    He got into his Honda Civic and started to drive away, but not before I saw them, monsters that surrounded him like ants drawn to a picnic. He was the spilt kool-aid. My pulse rocketed, and it felt like my whole body was on fire.

    "Was there a ghost with him?" she asked.

    "Worse than that." My voice trembled, each word heavier than the last. "Mrs. Johnson, I know you just told me to only call you when I was confident of something.¡±

    I took a deep breath, trying to regain my composure.

    ¡±I¡¯m confident something bad is about to happen in this town, and that man in the Civic¡­ he¡¯s going to be a part of it."

 5. The Letter

    Naomi,

    I hope this letter finds you. I asked my folks to deliver it to you after my passing.

    First off, please don¡¯t be sad. While I may have lived a short life, it was still a fulfilled one. Thanks to you, In my short 2 year run, we helped 12 spirits move on and we put 4 people behind bars. That¡¯s a life well lived. Without you none of this would have been possible. When no one took me seriously, you did. For that I¡¯m going to be forever grateful.

    Honestly, we made a pretty good team. I liked to pretend we were sort of like starsky and hutch. That is if Starsky was a young kid about to die of cancer and Hutch was a tall black woman with a bad attitude.

    All jokes aside, I wanted to let you know that I gave your number to the next person in the list. I doubt they will be nearly as cool as I am or as entertaining as I was, but let''s be honest, no one can live up to that standard.

    In all seriousness, they will have a hard journey, and I hope that you can mentor them through this like you did for me. We both know for a fact they are going to mess up, and they are going to get in trouble. It comes with the job title.

    Once they fail, they will want to quit. I need you to convince them to keep going. The world needs them. These spirits need them.

    I don¡¯t think you ever fully believed me when I was alive but I hope you¡¯ll believe me now. The hardest thing about this new power comes from not being in control of your own body. I can¡¯t tell you how many nights I¡¯d be doing one thing and I¡¯d wake up somewhere completely different.

    Maybe this power makes you part werewolf or something. Either way, it¡¯s a terrifying experience and they will never get used to it. When it does happen to them, I hope you¡¯re there to help them through it.

    I know with you around, they will be in good hands. I¡¯m sure once they get a full grip on their powers, they will be a valuable asset for you. They just need to survive long enough to unlock that potential.

    I want to add one parting note. I¡¯m so sorry I wasn¡¯t able to help you more with Grayson and DeSean before my time came to an end. I know how much they meant to you. Maybe the next person will be able to help you solve their murder. All I can say now is I¡¯m confident after all of our searching that they have moved on to a better place. When I¡¯m up there, I¡¯ll be sure to find them and tell them how amazing you are.

    Love from the afterlife,

    Alex

    ###

    I carefully folded the letter and hid it in my wallet. It was a reminder of all the good Alex had managed to do in his two years on the job and the work I needed to do to live up to his legacy.

    The part about the two men at the end interested me. Maybe once Naomi and I become more comfortable around each other, she¡¯ll bring it up. Speaking of Naomi, she had been diligent after I pointed out the Grey Civic man.

    She called in a favor and had a tail put on him before she dropped me back off at Big Al¡¯s Catfish Haven. While I appreciated her thoroughness, I had my doubts much would come of it. To get that many vengeful spirits around him, he clearly knew what he was doing.

    On second thought, It was entirely possible I had misjudged the situation and pin pointed the wrong guy. Perhaps it was a coincidence that the spirits circled him like a pack of hungry wolves. Well, there was no use second guessing myself now. I already pointed him out to Naomi.

    The day had been long and eventful. All I could think of was a warm shower to wash the smell of fish guts from my body. You know it¡¯s bad when you can smell yourself. Before I could do that, I had to finish what I started.

    As much as I wanted to track that man down right away to confirm my suspicions, that mystery would have to wait. Alex was wrong about one thing in his letter to Naomi. I may be an idiotic kid, I may make tons of mistakes, and I may lose control from time to time. All of that was true. One thing I¡¯m not though is a quitter.

    Nicole needed my help, and she hadn¡¯t been herself since we left the car. It wasn¡¯t anything obvious, nothing you could put your finger on. Instead, it was something shared between us, a spectral connection of sorts that even I struggled to understand. Since we left, she had radiated this deep, unshakable worry. Time was running thin, and I couldn¡¯t wait for Naomi¡¯s wellness check to come through.

    No, that would be too late. It was up to me. That was the explanation I gave myself as I stood in front of the old man''s home.

    With the sun still above the horizon, the house seemed less foreboding than it had in the dead of night. That still didn¡¯t stop me from being absolutely terrified as I worked my way onto the property. My muscles twitched involuntarily as I approached the driveway. As I reached the front step, the air shifted. Something was wrong. Something bad.

    The front door stood wide open. Harry was nowhere in sight. A shattered bottle of Jack Daniels lay scattered across the porch, shards of the broken glass glistened off the sunlight.

    I picked my way carefully around the mess, trying to stay quiet as I peered into the house. It was empty. Empty and wrong. One of the guns that usually sat mounted on the wall was gone, as were several pictures from the mantelpiece.

    I heard the creek of a footstep on the porch behind me. I went to pull back, but my motion was abruptly halted.

    I felt my eyes involuntarily shift to the top of my head. It wasn¡¯t until just before my body hit the floor that I realized what had happened. Something hit me. Something hard. I felt my body smack hard onto the ground but I saw nothing. The faint smell of whisky was the last thing I remembered before I succumbed to the darkness.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    ###

    When my eyes finally opened, I found myself in the garage behind the house, hands bound to a chair with rough rope that bit into my wrists. I wriggled and squirmed, but they refused to budge.

    The space was mostly empty, save for a single table covered with junk and an old folding chair. Everything else had been stripped away. Plastic tarps lined the floor and walls, the kind you¡¯d see in crime dramas just before things got bloody. That wasn¡¯t a good sign. It appeared Harry had been planning to end it all for a while.

    On the table were the pictures of Nicole, Nancy, and Harry Monroe. The locket sat beside them, along with a few other trinkets I didn¡¯t recognize. It looked like he had spent a while huddled around this table looking at the trinkets. That was my best guess. I based it solely on the amount of empty bottles of beer surrounding the table.

    Harry sat in that lone chair, his gun aimed at my torso. I don¡¯t think he was fully there. The man that threatened me did not appear to be the husband in the photos, instead he was just a shell of a man.

    He spoke up. His words slurred, almost incomprehensible. ¡°Why¡¯d you sneak into my house last night? Don¡¯t pretend I don¡¯t know who you are. You left the drawer open ya know. You don¡¯t touch my girl''s stuff. I should kill ya right now.¡±

    My eyes flicked to the knife strapped to his belt. Shit, what was he going to do to me? He had a knife attached to his hip and a gun pointed at me.

    ¡°Please, don¡¯t hurt me! It¡¯s not what it looked like. I was here to save you!¡±

    ¡°Save me?¡± Harry¡¯s lips curled into a bitter smile. ¡°Son, I¡¯ve been dead for years now. There ain¡¯t no saving me. All you did was give me the final reminder of why it¡¯s time for me to go.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not what your daughter thinks.¡± The words tumbled out before I could stop them. Harry shot up from his chair. He was fast for someone his age. In a flash, the gun was inches from my face, the knife gripped in his other hand.

    I forced myself to hold back the impulse to vomit. The smell that radiated from the man was otherworldly. It was clear he was unwell.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you talk about my daughter!¡± Harry growled, his voice low and dangerous. ¡°You don¡¯t know a damn thing about her.¡± He momentarily lost his balance and stumbled forward.

    I winced as the knife sliced into my cheek. A trickle of blood ran down my face. I was tired of all this damage to my body.

    ¡°She¡¯s here now,¡± I said, gritting my teeth against the pain. ¡°I see her! She¡¯s right there in the corner. You have to believe me! If you could see the pain she¡¯s in, watching you do this¡­¡±

    The knife didn¡¯t hesitate as it plunged into my leg. A scream ripped from my throat, agony blurring my vision. For a moment, the room spun, and everything faded away. But in that darkness, she was there. Nicole. A light in the shadows.

    I called out to her, pleading with her to do something. Anything. ¡°Nicole! Help!¡± She reached out and touched my chest. I felt a spark and then she was no longer there. But she wasn¡¯t gone.

    My body felt strange, no longer mine. My limbs were heavy and unresponsive. It was at that point I realized¡ªNicole had taken over. The pain was gone. What happened? This feeling was¡­ unreal. I had never felt anything like this. I had become a guest in my own body.

    When my mouth opened, it wasn¡¯t my voice that came out. It was hers. Soft, pleading. The voice of a daughter who had been trying to reach her father for years.

    ¡°Dad, stop! Don¡¯t do this to him! Please, Mom and I wouldn¡¯t want this for you.¡±

    Harry¡¯s grip tightened on the gun, and he shoved it closer to my chest, his eyes wild and desperate.

    ¡°Stop it! You¡¯re not her! My daughter is dead. My wife is dead. I have no one left in this world!¡±

    ¡°At ten years old, you took me to that father-daughter dance. Do you remember? I stood on your toes, and we swayed to that song from Tarzan¡ªthe one about always being in your heart. You leaned down and whispered in my ear that no matter what happened, you¡¯d always be there for me. You said I¡¯d never be alone, because I¡¯d always have you.¡±

    Harry¡¯s face crumpled, his bravado cracking under the weight of old memories. His hands shook, and the gun wavered. The anger that had fueled him for so long was draining away, leaving behind something hollow.

    ¡°How do you know that?¡± His voice was barely a whisper now. ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    ¡°When I turned thirteen, you took Mom and me to Dollywood,¡± Nicole continued. ¡°It was the last family vacation before she got sick. We stayed in that little cabin in the woods, remember? There was a homeless man that you gave some food and a blanket to. You told me that everyone has good in them and sometimes people just need help. You need help now dad. Let us give you that blanket.¡±

    Tears welled in Harry¡¯s eyes. He backed up to the table and slowly lowered the gun. He kept it hovering just over the table. Nicole¡¯s words seemed to have pierced through his grief. He was just a broken man now, missing his family. He was lost in a world without them.

    ¡°I love you, Dad. To the moon and back,¡± Nicole whispered. ¡°Please, for Mom and me¡­ don¡¯t do this. Let him go and don¡¯t take your life. Please!¡±

    Harry¡¯s hand finally let go of the gun, and it clattered onto the table. The sound echoed through the empty garage, a final, resounding note. He stared at me¡ªor rather, through me¡ªhis eyes were filled with an ocean of pain.

    ¡°I¡¯ll always be here with you, Daddy,¡± Nicole said, her voice softening. And then, just like that, she was gone. I felt control of my body return, my limbs heavy and aching.

    ¡°Nicole¡­ no. Nicole, come back. Please, baby! I need you,¡± Harry¡¯s voice was raw, desperate.

    ¡°She¡¯s still here, Harry,¡± I said, my own voice weak and trembling. ¡°She¡¯s always been here. She¡¯s your guardian angel.¡±

    Harry looked at me, eyes hollow, but that flicker of understanding was still there. ¡°Oh god, what have I done? You just tried to help me. I¡¯m sorry for this.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s ok, you weren''t yourself. Let me go and we can fix this.¡± I winced. Doing my best to speak through the pain.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. There is no changing what I¡¯ve done. Although I hope one day you¡¯ll forgive me.¡±

    I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, Harry reached for the gun again. This time, there was no hesitation. He pressed it under his chin.

    ¡°I¡¯m coming, baby. Daddy will be there soon.¡±

    The shot rang out, deafening in the small garage. My ears buzzed with the aftermath, the sound reverberated through my skull. Harry Monroe was everywhere now¡ªon the walls, on the floor, on me. I sat there, frozen in shock, unable to process what had just happened.

    In an instant, Nicole was gone. There was no bright light to take her. One moment she was next to me, and the next, she wasn¡¯t. It was almost like she had never been there at all.

    I felt like a piece of me had left with her. I guess Alex was right. Protectors move on when their work is done. But this didn¡¯t feel like a job well done. This was an absolute fuck up.

    I was unable to move, to think. The shock had temporarily numbed the pain in my knee.

    The sound of sirens grew louder in the distance. A neighbor must have called 911 when they heard the gunshot.

    It was too late to run. Too late to hide. And honestly, even if I could move now, I¡¯m not sure I would. At just seventeen years old, I¡¯d been stabbed and watched a man take his own life. That wasn¡¯t something you just got over.

    I stared at the ceiling, blinking back tears. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Nicole. I failed you.¡±

 6. So You F***ed Up

    After the police found me in the shed, tied up and bleeding out, they had me immediately rushed to Ravenwood Medical Center. Ok fine, that was my assumption. I had actually been passed out for most of the experience. The doctor said that was typical after losing as much blood as I had.

    All I remembered was waking up in a dingy white room, with black and white tile floors, and a large oversized visitors chair that overtook half my allotted space. Next to me was an older gentleman who was listening to something from ESPN. It turned out they didn''t let people have single rooms in this dump.

    They had me strapped down to one of those automated rising hospital beds, apparently they did that because I was a fall risk. It wasn''t like I was about to go anywhere. At least the drugs worked.

    Ravenwood Medical Center had shown me exactly how it earned its two stars on yelp over the past twenty-four hours. The nurse they gave me was a monster. She reminded me of Agatha Trunchbull, the angry principal from that Matilda movie.

    On top of the horrible service and less than ideal accommodations, my room was ice cold. Perhaps I had died in that shed and instead of being put in a hospital, they put me in this hell hole. I guess it was possible hell had finally frozen over.

    When I asked Agatha, or rather Mary, for a blanket she told me they were all out and to stop being a little whiny teen and deal with it.

    She made up some bullshit excuse about how all the other patients had complained about the same thing. My guess was she was just lazy, but I wasn¡¯t about to call her out on that. She did control my pain medication.

    Instead, I sat there in the cold. To distract myself, I jumped on to check if cold rooms were a common complaint among its visitors, but I came up empty handed.

    That¡¯s not to say the review page wasn''t entertaining. There was one review that caught my eye from a user that went by RagedUpBrownieAddict. He said, and I quote,

    <blockquote>

    The cafeteria was the best part of this establishment. Would 100% recommend the brownie. It¡¯s the only reason this place doesn¡¯t have 0 stars.

    </blockquote>

    I had tried that supposed amazing Brownie. If that was the best thing this hospital had going for it, I''d be dead by the morning.

    I was curious though, how many Brownies must a person consume to become a brownie addict.

    No, this was not a distraction to keep me from processing what happened to me. It was important!

    According to the internet, apparently as long as you have a strong physical or psychological urge to do something, it becomes an addiction. I think I might have a new addiction to being in places I shouldn¡¯t. My life would have been much less painful had I chosen the brownie route.

    Alright, this was silly. Enough procrastinating. It''s not that hard to take the time to process what happened to me.

    I guess my situation wasn¡¯t all bad. The doctor did say that if everything continues to heal and the social worker clears me to go, then I can be back in my bed by tomorrow. That seemed like a minor miracle, all things considered.

    Ok that''s enough processing for now. What else can I look up. I wonder if there are any movies out.

    All I know is I needed a break from the supernatural world, so no ghost movies. Somehow I had yet to run into a ghost since Nicole left.

    Oh man, Nicole. I had tried my best to forget about her. I felt tears stream down my face. It felt like a crack developed in my resolve.

    Why didn''t you listen to her you stupid, stupid old man. She had one wish for you and you let her the fuck down.

    I hoped you moved on Nicole. I hope you''re happy. While I was glad she was gone, I will admit, I did miss her. It was like she had become a part of me.

    No not now. This is too much. It''s not the right place. I have to stay strong. I have to move on. I looked around.

    The fact there were no ghosts in a hospital confused me. With how much life and death goes through this place, more than normal if you believe the reviews, you¡¯d expect I would have seen a bunch.

    Maybe the gift was gone? No, it couldn¡¯t be that easy. Something else must be going on. I decided I needed to do something to distract myself from that uncomfortable thought. I turned back to my monitor.

    My pointer hovered over the disc drive on my laptop, my finger on the mouse. There it was, The Insiders Digital Guide to Seeing Ghosts. I had run out of things to distract me. I was so desperate for a break from this life. If that was true, then why does my finger want to press the button so badly?

    Fuck it, I pressed down, my finger instinctively twitched on the mouse. The folder opened. I already knew the exact video I had to watch. I scrolled until I found it.

    There it was. I opened the video titled So You Fucked Up. Alex appeared on the screen.. He looked skinnier and more yellow than I remembered from his other videos. This video must have been recorded toward the end of his life.

    I hesitated. Do I really want to jump back into this life? I realized the answer didn¡¯t matter. Regardless if I wanted to or not, I had to know what this video said.

    I pressed play.

    ###

    Hey future me, welcome to what I call rock bottom. Yeah it sucks I know. I want to tell you a story. Please don¡¯t leave until you hear me out. It¡¯s important, I promise.

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    On June 9th, 2003, three members of the Butler family each packed a single backpack full of clothes during the dead of night. The family walked down the street to the nearest greyhound station and hopped on a bus.

    What was their destination you may ask? They were headed halfway across the country to the small town of Ravenwood. There, the family planned to stay with Sharon¡¯s cousin Naomi. Yes, the same one who¡¯s name I mentioned in my opening video. Hopefully by now you two have met.

    Sharon had always been a good mother. She had worked tirelessly to make sure her boys had what they needed: food on their plates and clean clothes in their drawers. But the truth was, love wasn¡¯t enough. And when the money ran out, Sharon did what any desperate parent might do¡ªshe found another way. A way that would shape the lives of her family forever.

    It had all started with Crystal, a coworker at the hotel where Sharon worked as a cleaning lady. Sharon had mentioned to Crystal that she was on the hunt for a second job. The one here at the hotel just wasn¡¯t enough to feed her and her family.

    Crystal had handed her a piece of paper, the edges worn from being folded and unfolded. On it was a phone number and nothing more. She told Sharon about the side hustle she had started with the man on the other end of this phone number. Sharon had hesitated, but only for a moment. When she called, the offer seemed too good to pass up.

    A man with a wide face and an even wider belly had become her contact. He hadn¡¯t asked for much. Just a few jobs a week. The work had been simple: pick up a car, drive it to an rental home, and wait for a package to be delivered. For each job, Sharon was paid a thousand dollars in cash, under the table of course. That sort of money was life changing for her and her children.

    For ten jobs, everything had gone smoothly. She¡¯d driven to the pickup, watched her boys splash in luxurious pools, and waited for the UPS man to drop off the package. Then, she delivered it. Easy. Routine.

    She began to grow attached to the lifestyle this new job afforded her. She hated the days the phone didn¡¯t ring. That¡¯s exactly why she answered the phone so eagerly the morning of June 9th. Unfortunately, something about this call was different.

    The usual man wasn¡¯t on the other end of the phone. Instead, a new voice, rough and sharp, had come through the line. Sharon hesitated. She contemplated whether she should take on this new risk, but she needed the money.

    The job had started like the others. She had picked up the car, taken her boys to the rental home, and watched them play in the pool. When the package had arrived, she had exhaled a sigh of relief. It seemed like everything was fine. But the day that would change her life forever was just beginning.

    After putting her boys to bed, Sharon had driven to the same mattress store as usual.

    This time, police surrounded the store. The perimeter was blocked off. She saw her contact was in the back of a squad car. She panicked with no idea what to do.

    So, she had done the only thing she could¡ªshe hid the package under the seat and drove away as fast as possible without raising suspicion.

    Back at the rental home, her hands had shaken as she pulled out the package. She had known this job was most likely on the wrong side of the law, but she¡¯d never asked questions. She couldn¡¯t afford to. But now, she had no choice. In her panicked state, she¡¯d torn the packaging on a piece of metal under the seat. What she saw inside the package shocked her.

    Fifty thousand dollars. More money than she had ever seen in her life.

    Sharon had made a choice that night. The company didn¡¯t know her real name. They had kept things distant. She could disappear. Take the money, grab her kids, and start over. Somewhere far away from here.

    And that¡¯s exactly what she had done.

    When the bus pulled into the small town of Ravenwood, Sharon and her boys had stepped off, ready to begin their new life. Sharon had hidden the money, even from Naomi.

    For months, everything had gone as planned. The boys had enrolled in school, and Naomi had helped Sharon secure a steady job at her office. For the first time in a long time, Sharon had allowed herself to be happy.

    But then, on the afternoon of September 30th, everything had shattered.

    Sharon had been home, waiting for her boys to come home from school. She had expected to hear the sound of the door bursting open, the excited voices of her sons filling the room. But that never happened. They didn¡¯t come home. And as the hours passed, she became more worried.

    Naomi and her formed a search team. A dozen volunteers scoured the neighborhood, hoping to find the boys.

    Three nights passed and there was still no sign of them. By this point, hundreds had joined the search. Things looked bleak. Still, Sharon and Naomi never gave up hope.

    That fourth night, Sharon finally received some news. It was unfortunately not the news she had hoped.

    A homeless woman who had been out walking her dog called into the station. She reported that she found two trash bags stuffed with human remains just outside of town. They had been abandoned near a homeless camp.

    Once the bodies were recovered, DNA confirmed the bodies were that of DeSean, age ten, and Greyson, age nine.

    Strapped to the bag was the note with just a few simple, but powerful words:

    ¡°Consider your debt settled.¡±

    When the police brought her in and broke the news, something inside her just¡­ snapped.

    The last anyone heard of Sharon, she was in Cottonwood Mental Health Facility. She hasn¡¯t spoken a word since that fateful day. For years now, she¡¯s sat in the same chair, looking at the same wall, lost in a place far away from here.

    That poor woman had become a ghost, doomed to her own internal cage. Unlike real ghosts, her prison was one of her own design.

    After I heard Sharon''s story, I made my way to that bridge¡ªthe one where they found her boys. All things considered, it was a relatively normal bridge. For most passers by, they wouldn¡¯t have taken a second glance at the structure. I saw the reality.

    Greyson sat under the bridge. He hadn¡¯t aged a single day since the day he went missing. Hopefully by now you realize you stay the same age as the moment you die. It sucks I couldn¡¯t make it to the age of twenty-one.

    Anyway, He looked out at the water, as if he expected his mother to come pick him up any minute now. He just sat there with his knees pulled to his chest, like he was waiting for something that would never come.

    I tried everything to help him move on, but no matter what I did the boy just sat there, unmoved. I was finally forced to accept the reality that he was doomed to live at that exact spot for all of eternity.

    I couldn¡¯t bear to tell Naomi the truth¡ªthat her nephew was still here, stuck in this world, unable to leave. So I lied. It wasn¡¯t my proudest moment, and one of my biggest fuck ups.

    There¡¯s something so cruel about that¡ªabout telling someone that their loved one is just one of the thousands, maybe millions, of ghosts out there, forever bound to this earth. Forced to walk it alone. It still haunts me.

    But here¡¯s the thing¡ªsince the beginning of time, ghosts have been trapped here, caught between this life and the next. Imagine being tied to this place with no one to talk to, no one to love. It¡¯s a cruel joke the universe plays on them.

    So yeah, you messed up. But at least you gave that ghost a chance to move on. A chance to be saved. A ghost who might have been doomed to stay here forever without you.

    Remember, you can live your life owning up to your mistakes or you can shut down like Sharon and wait tired and alone for that warm embrace of death. We have both seen what that life is like. No one should live that way.

    If one day you or I become trapped in this world between worlds, and god I hope not, we can only hope that someone like us comes along and gives us even a sliver of hope. It¡¯s better to try and fail, than to walk this world eternally alone.

    You did your best. And that¡¯s all you can do. Please, don¡¯t give up.

 7. An Unexpected Visitor

    I hoped the video would be like some sort of cheat code for my brain¡ªa quick switch to take me from messed up to fixed again. Unfortunately, life isn¡¯t a game that can be cheated, regardless of what the game of life tells you.

    After the video ended, I remained broken, still hollow, and very much stuck in the mess that was my life. It at least answered a few questions that had lingered in the back of my mind since this whole thing started.

    Namely, I now understood why Naomi believed Alex when he first called. His call must have sounded like the answer to a desperate prayer.

    She was so eager to believe her nephews were still with her that she clung to any sliver of hope, no matter how stupid it seemed.

    She didn¡¯t know the truth yet¡ªdidn¡¯t know that moving on was the better option.

    The living want to believe their loved ones are still around, close by, watching over them. Now that I''ve seen the other side, I realized how selfish that was.

    Alex was right¡ªlife as a ghost looked horrible. You can¡¯t blame people, though. It¡¯s not their fault. Love is one of our greatest strengths.

    Wait, did I really just think that? Ew, what''s wrong with me?

    Last week, I was shoveling down chocolate donuts dipped in nacho cheese with grape juice chasers just to win a two-dollar bet.

    Now here I am, waxing poetic about life, death, and love like some kind of philosopher. This ghost thing is stupid. I want to go back to being a boring old teenager.

    Those thoughts kept me company as I lay in the hospital bed. I tossed and turned while sleep decided to play a cruel game of hide-and-seek with me. The more I tried to catch it, the further away it seemed to drift.

    I tried to stare at the ceiling, doing my best to count the number of stains I saw. That didn¡¯t help. It just raised more questions about this place.

    There were multiple dark black spots painted on the ceiling, was that mold? It had to be. Gross. At this point, those two star reviews were looking generous.

    I needed to switch tactics. I tuned into the noise from the hallway. It was just the sound of different rings, dings, and beeps. I did catch a few faint conversations in the distance, but they were too choppy to make out.

    After a few minutes of that, I gave up. My eyes drifted to the curtain that separated me from my roommate. He was an older guy, probably in his late sixties, although I had never been great at guessing age. He¡¯d mentioned something about his leg¡ªsome medical issue I didn¡¯t really understand. Poor guy didn¡¯t have anyone to visit him. No family, no friends. Just him and the occasional nurse.

    Meanwhile, I had a rotating cast of characters¡ªmy parents, friends, even social workers. And here he was, alone, invisible to the world. It made me wonder if there was anyone out there who still cared about him, someone who loved him enough to show up.

    While I thought about all of this, I caught the sound of multiple footsteps. They were accompanied by a pair of voices that I vaguely recognized as nurses I''d met. I heard them stop, right outside of my door.

    They talked like I wasn¡¯t there, but that was fine by me. At least it gave me something else to think about.

    ¡°Any idea what security¡¯s doing?¡± one nurse asked.

    The other nurse, a woman with a deep voice, replied, ¡°You didn¡¯t hear? Someone stole a bunch of medical supplies. Pills, blankets, even blood, for some weird reason.¡±

    ¡°Oh my God, that¡¯s awful.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, they think it was an employee. They¡¯re checking all of us. My money¡¯s on Phil. That dude screams pill addiction.¡±

    ¡°Shit, I¡¯ve been stealing toilet paper from this place for years. How much trouble do you think I¡¯m in?¡±

    ¡°Shhh... Are you crazy? Keep your voice down. You admit to nothing. We¡¯ll pin it on Mercedes. She spends half her shift in the bathroom anyway.¡±

    ¡°Good idea.¡±

    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ve got to change an IV in room 14. Remember, we know nothing,¡± said the first nurse.

    I couldn¡¯t help but snicker. Even adults apparently gossip like high school kids. At least it was a distraction from the panic that spiraled in my mind. Who would steal pills, a blanket, and blood from a hospital?

    Pills I get. It would be easy money on the black market. Now that I thought about it, I had no idea if the black market was real or not.

    Even if it was real, who¡¯s buying black market blood? Does blood have black market value? Maybe. I hope I never need to find out though.

    Whoever stole it could be a vampire. A vampire with a pill addiction and a tendency to get cold at night. Yeah, that seemed as plausible as anything else lately.

    At least the absurdity of the thought was enough to make my eyes heavy. I guess distracting myself from my own problems was the final piece of the sleep puzzle. Slowly, my breaths evened out, and the world faded away into darkness.

    ###

    I woke up. At least I thought I was awake. My body felt awake at least. Slowly, I sat up then stepped out of bed.

    I stood next to my hospital bed, but the world around me was different. Smoke filled the room, but not normal smoke. Little swirls of blue and white streaks filled the air. I felt a tickle on my cheek as one of the swirls passed over it.

    Wisps of smoke¡ªif you could call it that¡ªfloated lazily around me. They weren¡¯t the usual dull gray, either. No, these had streaks of blue and white that swirled through them, like some kind of ghostly aurora borealis.

    One wisp drifted close to me. It brushed against my cheek and left a tingling sensation behind.

    I looked around. This wasn¡¯t my world anymore. Not exactly, anyway. It was like I¡¯d taken a step sideways into a version of the world where everything was almost the same, but¡­ not.

    I made my way to the door and peeked out into the hallway. The hospital staff was still there, doing their usual hospital things, but they flickered in and out of focus.

    They were there and not there, at the same time. They appeared to be outlines of themselves that pulsed with every breath.

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    The closest thing I had to compare it to was how they demonstrate to students how bats use radar to look around. I wonder if ghost-dar is a real thing? I saw nothing about this in Alex¡¯s guide, but this is definitely what ghost-dar would look like.

    A noise behind me pulled me out of my thoughts. It wasn¡¯t loud, but it brought me back into the room.

    My roommate, the old man who¡¯d been asleep for hours, was now standing. Only he wasn¡¯t entirely¡­ solid. There was a glow around him, that same blue-and-white shimmer I¡¯d seen surrounding Nicole when I first met her.

    Only he was much brighter and stronger than her glow. It was as if his flame was newer, more profound.

    I approached him cautiously. He was looking around, his eyes wide with confusion and fear.

    ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± he asked, his voice trembling.

    I didn¡¯t have any easy answers for him. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± I said softly. ¡°You¡¯ll be okay.¡±

    But he shook his head, his panic rose. ¡°You¡­ You look wrong. What¡¯s happening? I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    I reached out and took his hand. I¡¯m not sure why I did it, but I knew it was the right thing to do. Sometimes, words don¡¯t help. Sometimes, you just have to be there. And in that moment, I knew what was about to happen, even if I couldn¡¯t explain how I knew.

    He was about to leave this world. Move on. Pass through whatever veil separates the living from the dead.

    He might not have had anyone here with him in this life, but there was someone waiting for him on the other side. I felt her presence. It was powerful.

    She called to him with a pull so strong it made my whole body shake. It was clear she had waited a long time for this moment.

    ¡°Barb? Barb, is that you?¡± His voice cracked, tears streamed down his face.

    From the swirling void, a woman stepped forward. Her form shimmered with an orangish version of the same light that surrounded the old man.

    Her''s was so bright that initially it strained my eyes. I let go of his hand and stepped back. I watched as she approached.

    ¡°Hello, John,¡± she said, her voice filled with warmth and love. ¡°I¡¯ve missed you.¡±

    She wrapped her arms around him, and for a moment, the room seemed to stand still. Then she turned to me, her eyes filled with gratitude. ¡°Thank you for helping him,¡± she said. ¡°Without you here, I¡¯m not sure he would have let go.¡±

    I nodded. I felt a lump form in the back of my throat. ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± I managed to say after a moment. ¡°You¡¯re one of the lucky ones, John. Go with her.¡±

    They held hands, and together they walked into the smoke, toward whatever lay beyond it. Just before they disappeared, I heard John whisper, ¡°I missed you.¡± Then they were gone, swallowed by the blue-gray mist.

    I felt my reality tug, doing its best to return me to where I belonged. Just before I gave in, I saw a figure by the front door, it was a woman, but her face was unclear.

    I couldn¡¯t hold on anymore. My vision flashed.

    ###

    I jolted awake. I looked at the floor. The smoke was gone. I was back in my bed.

    ¡°Hey, boy, are you awake?¡± A voice called to me. I ignored it.

    There were way too many questions I needed the answers to. For starters, where the hell did I come from?

    As a follow up, what did that woman mean when she said he couldn¡¯t move on without me? Was that the world Nicole lived in? None of this made any sense!

    ¡°HEY, Earth to Mr. Raymond!¡± the voice yelled.

    I turned¡ªit was Naomi. What was she doing here? I tried to put myself back together. I found that easier said than done.

    ¡°Naomi, what are you doing here?¡±

    ¡°I heard you didn¡¯t listen to my advice to stay away. I would have come earlier, but it¡¯s been a crazy day.¡±

    I looked over to John''s bed. He wasn¡¯t there anymore.

    ¡°Where¡¯d John go?¡± I asked the nurse cleaning up his part of the room.

    ¡°Somehow you slept through all of the excitement last night. John sadly didn¡¯t make it. He had some post surgery complications. At least he seemed to go peacefully in his sleep. I always thought that¡¯d be the best way to go.¡± the nurse said.

    I didn¡¯t recognize this new nurse, but she seemed more friendly than the previous ones. I smirked, it probably looked a bit out of place given the recent news, but I was happy for him.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m sure he¡¯s with his loved ones now. In fact, I''m positive he is.¡± For once, I was sure about that comment.

    The nurse smiled back. "That''s a good way to think about life. You''re very mature for your age young man," she said.

    Naomi snickered. She walked over to me and grabbed my shoulder.

    ¡°Hey, how about you and I take a little stroll around the hospital. You look like you could use some fresh air. Is it alright if I take him, nurse?¡± Naomi asked.

    ¡°As long as it¡¯s alright with him,¡± she said.

    ¡°Yeah, sure. Sounds good to me.¡± I replied.

    ¡°Ok, I¡¯ll go get some staff to help you move into a wheelchair.¡± the nurse said.

    ###

    It felt good to get out of that stuffy room. I was sore and drugged up, but I was ready to get the hell out of this place.

    Naomi waited until we had cleared the main nurses station to talk.

    ¡°So, how are you feeling?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m doing alright.¡±

    ¡°Listen boy, I¡¯ve seen hundreds of murders and traumas during my time on the force. If you were alright, there would be something wrong with you.¡±

    ¡°No really I¡¯m fine.¡±

    She pulled a card from her pocket and handed it to me.

    ¡°Alright, you don¡¯t have to talk to me about it. I do think you should talk to someone though. This is the number for my friend Andrea. I¡¯ve been going to her for a long time. She knows all about the arrangement that Alex and I had. You can be open and honest with her. We all have trauma to deal with.¡±

    You mean like you with your nephews and sister. That¡¯s what I wanted to say. Instead, I kept my mouth shut and took the card. This wasn¡¯t the right time to bring that up.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± I said.

    ¡°You''re welcome. I didn''t just come here to tell you what to do. Like I said, it''s been a busy 24 hours.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡±

    We reached the end of the hall and jumped into one of the elevators headed down to the first floor. She waited until the door closed to continue.

    ¡°That guy you saw in front of the Walmart, the one we put a tail on, well it turns out he works at this Hospital. I guess worked is probably the more correct word. He didn''t show up for his shift this morning. He lost our tail and no one has seen him since he left here last night. It''s the strangest thing. In my 15 years of duty, I''ve never seen someone vanish like that.¡±

    ¡°Was his name Phil by chance?¡±

    ¡°No, why do you ask?¡±

    ¡°No reason. I heard some nurses talk about stolen supplies from the hospital.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, we¡¯re aware of that. We checked the footage and no one saw him leave the hospital. It¡¯s like he just disappeared.¡±

    The elevator opened, she pushed us back into the hall. We headed to the courtyard.

    ¡°What about any bats?¡± I asked.

    ¡°What the hell you going on about? Don¡¯t tell me you think he''s a vampire.¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t confirmed anything yet, it¡¯s just my leading theory.¡±

    ¡°Well your theory is dumb.¡±

    ¡°Ghosts are real, why can¡¯t vampires be?¡±

    ¡°I guess you have me there. Still, it¡¯s a stupid theory.¡±

    Naomi pushed open the door to the courtyard and wheeled me outside.

    ¡°Listen, do I think this is a vampire? No.. well maybe. All I¡¯m saying is it fits the bill. You can¡¯t see him on the tv¡¯s, he vanished in the middle of the night, and he apparently stole blood. Plus when we saw him in the parking lot at Walmart he wore a hat and thick glasses and coat to stay out of the sun. It was like 60 fucking degrees that day.¡±

    ¡°Language around me. Mr. Raymond. Don¡¯t make me...¡±

    I reached my hand out to stop Naomi. Whatever she was about to say didn¡¯t matter now.

    In front of me were around a half-dozen vengeful spirits. They were spread out in various positions around the courtyard and parking lot. Like fucking ants to a picnic.

 8. Ants

    In seventh grade I had this friend named Jason. Maybe Friends was the wrong word. We really only hung out because of his house. He had what every pre-teen boy in the early 2000''s wanted. A finished basement with a big screen tv, multiple video game systems, and best of all no parents in sight.

    Honestly, come to think of it. I¡¯m not entirely sure his parents existed at all. I can¡¯t remember a single photo in the home or cars ever in the driveway. The upstairs was essentially empty.

    With no adults in sight, Jason¡¯s house became the headquarters for all the neighborhood boys. We called it the ¡°party house,¡± but don¡¯t let the name fool you. We were still the kind of nerds who¡¯d spend a Friday night arguing over which Dragon Ball Z villain was the best rather than throwing ragers or sneaking booze. The answer was Frieza and you''re wrong if you thought otherwise.

    Instead of the parties, sex, and alcohol that Hollywood sold as the quintessential teenage experience, we indulged in a different kind of vice. Raunchy R-rated comedies, marathon gaming sessions, and guzzling enough Mountain Dew to feed a small island nation.

    Amidst the mountain of edgy comedies like American Pie and Not Another Teen Movie, He also had an extensive collection of horror flicks.

    One night while I was sleeping over at Murphs, we decided to swing by his house. They had just started watching The Ring.

    I¡¯ll never forget the way my heart shot out of my chest when that pale little girl crawled out of the TV.

    It wasn¡¯t just her look that terrified me. It was something about the way she felt and the way she moved that my brain refused to process. She wasn¡¯t just a ghost; she was essentially fear itself.

    I vowed to myself at that moment that I would never watch another horror film again. I was perfectly fine being labeled a scaredy cat. Yet here we fucking were. Worse, this wasn¡¯t just a movie. This was my real life. I had begun to hate it.

    The creatures that stood around me gave me the exact same vibes as the girl in that movie. They seemed wrong, almost like they were designed to feel unnatural.

    They hovered just a few inches off the ground, their long robes rustled in the breeze. But, not in the way I expected them to. Something was wrong with the movement. What was it? It was like an itch I couldn¡¯t scratch.

    ¡°Hey, what do you see? You better not have shushed me for no reason.¡± Naomi asked. I jumped at the sound of her voice.

    Wow, was I that lost in my own memories? I had honestly forgotten she was there. I have to stop day dreaming like this, it''s going to get me killed.

    ¡°I see about a half dozen vengeful spirits. They''re kind of like ghosts, but way creepier. Alex didn¡¯t happen to tell you anything about them did he?¡± I asked.

    ¡°No, they sound terrifying though.¡±

    ¡°Oh man you would be right. These are some creepy looking fuck¡­ I mean ghosts. Sorry I''m working on cursing less. It''s hard.¡±

    ¡°I appreciate you trying to hold back the language. What are they doing?¡±

    ¡°Nothing.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean, nothing?¡±

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°Exactly what I said. They are completely still. Almost like statues.¡±

    Naomi chuckled, ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound all that vengeful. You sure Alex didn''t mean to call them something else, like casper the boring spirits?¡±

    Of course she would joke, she couldn¡¯t see the damn things. If she actually saw them, she''d know how terrified she should be right now.

    ¡°He named them because when they come to town, it means bad things are about to happen. Your job is to stop bad things, correct? If so, I suggest you take this more seriously.¡±

    I heard the attitude in my voice as soon as the words left my mouth. Crap, Naomi was just trying to help. It''s not her fault she cant see these things.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. That was rude of me,¡± I said.

    ¡°Hey, don¡¯t mention it, I¡¯m sure this is stressful for you.¡±

    She was right, my stress levels were currently maxed out. That wasn''t a good excuse. I had to do better. For now though, I needed to figure out our next step.

    Wait a minute, they had moved. The one on the left had been standing right on top of that yellow parking marker. How did I not notice the change? It was so sudden.

    I needed to figure out where they were headed.

    ¡°Hold on, they moved. Give me a second.¡± I said.

    I waited. Come on you creepy freakshows move.

    Oh shit, they moved again. They were heading towards something, but it wasn¡¯t towards us. Something in my brain clicked, I felt immediate relief like I just solved the world''s most annoying puzzle. Oh man, like ants to a picnic. It was so obvious! It was as if a lightbulb suddenly appeared over my head. I knew exactly what we had to do.

    ¡°Naomi, can you get me out of here? I have an idea of how to find your man.¡±

    ¡°You must be out of your damn mind! No, I can¡¯t just take you out of the hospital.¡±

    ¡°Why not? You need me to find your vampire.¡±

    ¡°Get out of here with that nonsense. Listen, you¡¯ve seen the badge. I¡¯m a civil servant. I can¡¯t just go around pulling kids out of hospitals before they get released by a doctor. I¡¯d lose my job.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m 18 in a couple weeks. Can¡¯t I just refuse service?¡±

    ¡°Do you see yourself? I mean just look at your leg. You were stabbed! You¡¯re on pain medications, for Christ''s sake, you¡¯re still hooked up to that IV!¡±

    I looked down at the IV in my arm. I grabbed the tube and yanked it out. I watched the blood trickle down my wrist. I took the corner of my shirt, to apply pressure. ¡°Alright, that¡¯s taken care of.¡±

    ¡°Heck no you didn¡¯t just do that. Are you freaking nuts!? Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? I did not sign up to deal with another crazy teenager with a death wish! Boy, you''re as bad as Alex was!

    ¡°Listen, I don¡¯t have time to waste. You can come with me or you can stay where you are. I don¡¯t care, but I promise you that at the end of this journey we¡¯re going to find your man.¡± Without waiting, I started to wheel toward the spirits.

    They moved at a normal human pace, but their movements were jarring, like a glitch in a video game. I thought back to my animation classes to try and make sense of what I saw.

    In animation, 24 frames per second is the standard for fluid motion. If that was normal, than these things moved closer to 6. It was like playing a person in Halo 2 who still relied on a dial up connection. They jumped around the screen irritating the rest of the players.

    I made it halfway down the parking lot before my arms started to burn.

    Oh man, this is way harder than I thought it¡¯d be. Stay strong, don¡¯t quit now. Oh what¡¯s the use, there was no way I could keep this up. How do people do this all the time? Their arms must be ridiculously strong or I¡¯m really out of shape. It¡¯s probably both.

    ¡°Hey, wait up!¡± Naomi called out.

    Relief flooded over me. ¡°Oh thank God! I really didn¡¯t want to do this alone.¡±

    ¡°Alright, if you¡¯re going to insist on going, I¡¯m coming with you to make sure you¡¯re safe. I can¡¯t in good conscience let you run away from this place without someone to protect you. Just know, I do not approve of this at all! Also, if we get to an end spot, you stay the hell back until we call for backup. You hear?¡±

    I nodded.

    ¡°Let''s go get this guy! If you push, I''ll navigate." I said. With that we followed the creatures, hopeful they''d lead us to our target.

 9. Lost

    Ravenwood, like all small towns, was a place of contrasts. There was the old side on the west, and the new side to the east. The separation between the two sides of town was both immediate and drastic.

    New Ravenwood was a suburban dream, with its freshly built homes, meticulously manicured lawns, and schools that boasted some of the highest rankings in the state. But cross over to the west, and you''d find yourself in a different story altogether.

    Old Ravenwood was a patchwork of run-down houses, sagging apartments, and shuttered shops, all clustered around a county prison that was desperate for repair.

    The Ravenwood Medical Center sat directly on the divide between the two sides. It straddled the line between the two parts of town, and was often the furthest west most of us in east Ravenwood would dare to venture. So, when the creatures chose to cross the street and head west into Old Ravenwood, I wasn¡¯t exactly shocked.

    It was a real shame how little the people of west Ravenwood cared for their homes. We passed yard after yard of dead grass, covered in weeds and trash. Homes were decorated with broken, boarded up windows and chipped siding showing years of abandon and neglect.

    Not every home had surrendered, though. Here and there, a few stubborn owners still gave a crap. But these islands of care were few and far between.

    Even the sidewalks weren¡¯t spared¡ªroots from old overgrown trees had erupted through the pavement. That was less than ideal for me. Naomi navigated the potholes as if my chair had been fitted with off-road tires. Each jolt forced my body to shake violently. It threatened to spill me onto the uneven ground.

    They didn¡¯t give me nearly enough drugs for this trip. We hit a large bump. My knee screamed in pain. That one felt intentional. There was no way she didn¡¯t see it there.

    That being said, I was in no position to complain, so I sat there and took my punishment. Naomi finally broke the awkward silence that had started since she had agreed to join me on this trip.

    ¡°Do you have any idea where these things are headed?¡± she asked, her voice steady as she pushed me over yet another obstacle.

    ¡°Apparently to the crap part of town,¡± I muttered, gripping the armrests for dear life.

    She shot me the stink eye. ¡°Oh, you think just because your family¡¯s from East Ravenwood, you¡¯re somehow better than us?¡±

    I realized I had stepped right into it. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t know you were from¡ª¡±

    She cut me off, her tone sharp. ¡°This side of town may be older and a little rough around the edges, but I deal with double the amount of calls on your side. Just because something¡¯s old doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s bad.¡±

    ¡°Understood.¡±

    ¡°You better understand. You know, something you learn after years on the force is that judging a book by its cover is a quick way to end up dead. If you¡¯re going to keep throwing yourself into danger, you better get that through your head.¡±

    I nodded. She was right, of course. I had been judging based on appearances. I¡¯d have to work on that.

    Still, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a little on edge in a place like this. Especially with a murderer potentially lurking nearby.

    We hadn¡¯t gone more than a half mile from the hospital when the spirits began to slow down. A familiar unease twisted in my gut. It was the same feeling I¡¯d had back at Harry''s house. Something bad was nearby.

    ¡°I think we¡¯re close. Be ready,¡± I warned Naomi.

    We approached an old, boarded-up store. Above was the old decaying ruins of a sign that provided a small glimpse into the history of the place. It was the previous spot for a company called Empire Flooring and Tile.

    Oh man, I remember this place. They had a really catchy jingle and some weird Irish mascot on television when I was growing up.

    I was pretty sure my parents used them to replace the hardwood floors in their house. Six months later they had to have another company come out and fix everything. The fact this place was abandoned did not surprise me.

    I watched the vengeful spirits disappear into the building. I reached up and tapped Naomi on the arm.

    ¡°They just went inside. I¡¯m pretty sure your man is inside this building.¡± I said.

    ¡°Are you positive?¡±

    ¡°Obviously not. I¡¯ve only been doing this ghost thing for less than a week and was stabbed less than two days ago.¡±

    ¡°Well shoot. Stay here, I¡¯m going to go run around and see if I can see anything from the back. It looks abandoned, but if the guy is as dangerous as you say he is, we need to be careful. Stay back and stay quiet! You got that?¡±

    I nodded. I sat back and remained quiet as I watched her turn the corner. I waited patiently for a few minutes. Suddenly I felt my pulse race, my eyes grew heavy. I had this feeling before, but where?

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    Oh it was right in front of Harry''s house the night I went into his basement. Oh shit! I blinked, as I felt all control leave my body.

    ###

    I snapped back to reality with a jolt, my senses were playing catch-up. Disoriented didn¡¯t even begin to cover it. Something was off¡ªway off. It was like when you had that feeling you forgot to close the garage door or turn off the oven after you left the house. I hated that feeling.

    My gaze settled on the window, or rather, where a window used to be. Was the window what was off? Maybe. I don¡¯t remember being in front of a window.

    I glanced down, expecting to see my wheelchair. I was in a wheelchair a moment ago, right? Well I¡¯m not anymore. That has to be it.

    Wait a minute. Why am I seven feet off the ground!?

    I was precariously balanced on a trash can, my good leg supported me while the other dangled uselessly. My eyes were level with the top window next to the front door, and the glass in front of me was shattered. Blood dripped from my right hand, glass shards had embedded themselves into my skin.

    What the hell happened? This was Harrys all over again. It didn¡¯t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together. I punched that window, but why?

    This¡­ This is Alex''s fault. He had to give me these stupid powers! Man, screw him! Naomi¡¯s going to kill me if she finds me like this. I have to get down.

    I bent down, doing my best to hold my balance as I tried to find a way off the trash can. How the heck did I get up here with this leg? I¡¯ll be honest, I was mildly impressed with blacked out Joe.

    A voice rang out, muffled but urgent. I think it came from inside the building. I stopped my descent and tried to lean closer to hear. Someone was yelling! It was Naomi. I couldn¡¯t make out the words, but it sounded serious. Naomi wouldn''t yell without good reason.

    Crap, she must be in trouble! I had to get in there to help her!

    The front door suddenly burst open, and I tensed. But it wasn¡¯t the person I was expecting. It wasn¡¯t a man at all. A young Asian girl, no older than ten, shot out of the building.

    ¡°Wait! It¡¯s okay! We¡¯re here to help you!¡± I called after her.

    She stopped for a single moment. Her eyes locked onto mine. Her eyes looked wrong. Her pupils had overtaken her eyeballs. I heard people on drugs looked like that. I hoped she wasn¡¯t on drugs. She was so young.

    She turned and bolted. She was fast. I¡¯m not an expert on little kids, but she seemed abnormally fast for someone her age. Then again, I was very rarely around ten year olds these days.

    Naomi emerged from the store, her face a mix of frustration and fear. ¡°What the hell are you doing? I told you to stay hidden! Did you see a girl run out?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, she took off down that alley.¡±

    ¡°Damn it!¡± Naomi cursed.

    ¡°What happened to the no-cursing rule?¡±

    ¡°Not the time for that!¡± She snapped, pulling out her radio. ¡°This is Naomi Johnson, badge 45166. We have a possible kidnapping victim on the run. She appeared disoriented. I need backup at the old Empire Floor and Tile building and the surrounding area.¡±

    With her help, I managed to get back into my wheelchair, my hand throbbed.

    ¡°How the hell did you end up like that?¡± she asked, her voice edged with concern.

    ¡°I have no idea,¡±I admitted. ¡°One moment I was in my chair, the next I blinked and¡­ well, this.¡±

    Naomi winced at the sight of my hand. ¡°That doesn¡¯t look good. We¡¯ll get the paramedics to patch you up. But if you¡¯re blacking out like Alex, that¡¯s bad news. You¡¯re more of a liability than I¡¯d hoped.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I muttered, I felt the weight of her words. ¡°Not ideal.¡±

    ¡°You were right about one thing, there was something really messed up going on in that building.¡±

    I peeked in the doorway.

    ¡°Oh holy hell!¡± The smell hit me before my eyes could even register what I saw. The rancid smell of bile and decayed flesh assaulted my senses. I fought back the urge to vomit. It didn¡¯t work. I spewed all over the front door.

    ¡°Hey! Woah, you shouldn¡¯t go in there. You alright?¡± Naomi said. She patted me on the shoulder.

    I flashed back to the garage, to the sight of all that gore. Oh God not again. I felt my stomach turn.

    Naomi grabbed my wheelchair and pulled me away from the door. As she did, I caught a glance of two bodies chained to poles, perhaps a third. It was too dark to tell.

    The vengeful spirits sat around them like vultures picking off the remains of a dead carcass. I saw bits and pieces of blue flame being plucked from the bodies.

    Naomi stepped in front of me, cutting off the view of what was inside the building. ¡°Hey, keep your eyes on me. Look at me!¡±

    I took a deep breath, trying my best to regain control.

    ¡°That¡¯s good, keep doing deep breaths. Focus on me.¡± She pushed me away from the door, then grabbed her baton and smashed the front door in.

    ¡°Hey, listen to me. The police are going to want to know what happened. We have to have a story that makes sense. Are you paying attention?¡± Naomi asked.

    ¡°Yeah," I took a deep breath. "I¡¯m here.¡±

    ¡°Good. Alright, so here''s what happened. You ran away, I followed you to try and convince you to come back. We heard a sound outside of this building. I went around back, saw what I saw and yelled for her to stop. You, being an idiot that you are, busted this front door open with your hand to try and get in to play the hero. The window up top was already busted.¡±

    ¡°What about the civic guy?¡±

    ¡°Oh, you were right about him being in there. Although, I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll have to worry about him anymore. Unless he had an identical twin, he¡¯s dead.¡±

    "Wait, what?"

    "Yeah, a man that resembled him was tied up in there. He looked recently deceased."

    "I... I don''t understand."

    "Me either. We either avoided a catastrophe or just opened a giant can of worms. Let''s hope for the first one."

    I shook my head in agreement. I didn''t have the heart to tell her that I didn''t believe that first option for one minute.

    As confused as I was, I was certain of one thing. Something bad was still about to happen here. Unfortunately, now my lead suspect was dead and as I watched the sirens turn around the corner, my chance to follow these spirits was essentially over.

    Man, I needed a plan... I needed Murph.

 10. Cottonwood

    If I tried to write down ten of the worst possible places to visit around this area, given my ability to see ghosts, few places would rank higher than Cottonwood Mental Health Center.

    Unfortunately, when you¡¯re a social worker, there¡¯s only so many times you can watch a teenage boy get hurt before you¡¯re mandated to do something about it. That something was sending that mess of a teen, me in this instance, to Cottonwood to complete a mandatory 48-hour mental health screening.

    It turns out when you run from the hospital only to show up hours later, having punched out a glass door with your bare hands, they consider that a giant red flag.

    I couldn¡¯t blame her. Heck, I¡¯d been wondering lately if I shouldn¡¯t have checked myself in long before this. At least it was only two days. I can do anything for two days, right?

    Who was I kidding, this was going to feel like an eternity. I had only been in this place for around four hours and I was already going nuts.

    Plus, while I was stuck in here, the town of Ravenwood was left on its own. I still felt like a bad situation was brewing out there. Sadly, every moment I spent in here put me one step further behind. At least I tried to plan ahead.

    While Naomi¡¯s hands were tied, I had made her promise me one thing before I was wheeled away. I needed her to find Murph, give him my laptop, and share whatever she could about the building.

    There was something weird going on in that place, and I needed Murph to get a head start with research so that when I finally got out, I would be able to hit the ground running. Naomi didn¡¯t look thrilled about it, but I hoped she¡¯d come through.

    Unfortunately, the girl seemed to vanish into thin air. Wherever she was, I hoped she was safe. Hopefully, Naomi could find her while I was stuck in here. I couldn''t begin to imagine what she had been through.

    While Naomi was out looking, I had to get acquainted with my new reality.

    The town of Cottonwood was just outside Ravenwood. A lot of people called us sister towns due to our relative size and similar names, but I never really understood the comparisons.

    Both towns were born in the mid-1800s, but that¡¯s where the similarities ended. Ravenwood grew, thanks to a new state run highway in the 1930s. Cottonwood? Not so much.

    It limped along until the late 1940s, when this place opened. Apparently, there is a lot of money in mental health, because once they showed up, Cottonwood''s population boomed. Almost overnight, dozens of offshoot centers that specialized in related fields sprouted in the town.

    As a result of all of the mental health related businesses that formed in Cottonwood, the kids in Ravenwood started to make rude jokes about how anyone who was weird or different was a certified cotton brain. That was the nickname we gave to the residents of the hospital. Crap, I¡¯m a cotton brain now. That sucks. Kids were assholes.

    Speaking of kids, I don¡¯t even want to think about what they¡¯ll say to me when I finally go back to school. My social life, well what little I had of it, was all but guaranteed to be ruined at this point. Maybe my mom would be able to homeschool me. No, that would somehow make things worse.

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    Whatever, I guess there was nothing I could do about it now, the rumors had most likely already started. For now, I just needed to get through my forty-eight hours and get out of here. Who knows, maybe I¡¯d even run into Sharon. They said she was in here somewhere, right? Man that¡¯d be awkward.

    I looked around. I didn¡¯t see her in the room. Would I even know what she looked like? Probably not. I assumed she¡¯d look like Naomi. Maybe that was wrong of me.

    Either way, this place was crawling with spirits. I guess that wasn¡¯t exactly a surprise when you considered how many patients they had treated here over the years.

    What did come as a surprise however, was just how modern day everyone looked. Maybe Hollywood had lied about what people looked like in the forties to seventies, or maybe it was the consistent scrubs the patients referred to as elopers were forced to wear, but I had yet to see a person that didn¡¯t appear to have died before the 1980¡¯s.

    I wasn¡¯t sure why that bothered me so much. It just felt¡­ weird.

    It wasn¡¯t just their appearance or age of death that bothered me. It was how they acted. Or rather, how they didn¡¯t act. Unlike Nicole or Sally Anne, who seemed to know exactly what they were, these spirits carried on like they were still alive.

    It was like they had no recognition of their own deaths. They also seemed to have no awareness of me. I guess that could have been seen as either a positive or a negative depending on how you looked at it.

    I had taken a count of twenty spirits. That was twenty just within the four hours I had been here. There was probably more. Still, if they had noticed me, it might have been ghost overload. Talk about absolutely zero sleep for two days.

    On the flip side, it would have been hard for me to help them in any way. To be honest, with how short my time was here it would have probably been a wasted effort anyway.

    Either way, the fact that none of them noticed me broke everything I thought I knew about ghosts¡ªgranted, that wasn¡¯t much.

    They just... carried on. It was like I was the invisible one. Nothing in the guide that I had read or watched so far mentioned anything about a time when a ghost didn¡¯t acknowledge Alex¡¯s existence. Perhaps they couldn¡¯t see my flame. Or whatever it was that signaled my existence to them.

    For now, they went through the motions, day after day, following the same routines. It looked like they¡¯d been stuck in a loop for decades. It looked fucking miserable.

    From my seat, I watched as one of the ghosts¡ªa pale, frail man¡ªwaved his hand in front of a nurse¡¯s face, trying to get her attention. She obviously didn¡¯t respond, but I noticed her shiver. Apparently even these ghosts give off cold energy. Not a complete surprise.

    Above the nurse hung a row of photographs. It looked like a hall of fame of sorts for the therapists who had worked at the hospital.

    I wheeled myself closer to get a better look at the wall. It went all the way back to the founders of the building. This whole place started thanks to a man that went by the name of Mr. Ashcroft. Just like 98% of the other doctors up here, Mr. Ashcroft was a grouchy looking old white man. For some reason, I expected more mustaches up there.

    I saw the name Klanderman on the wall. According to his plaque, he served the hospital between 1957 to 1992. That was the same name as the doctor who did my intake assessment. I bet that¡¯s his dad.

    My dad worked in the medical field too. I often wondered if he was disappointed that I didn''t plan to follow in his footsteps. But my heart was set on animation, and I couldn¡¯t stand the sight of needles¡ªespecially now, given my current situation.

    ¡°Hey!¡± a voice yelled across the room.

    A skinny guy with wild, curly hair and a scruffy beard. His bushy eyebrows hovered over wide, almost bulging brown eyes.

    ¡°Uh, can I help you?¡± I asked.

    He rushed over, stopping way too close. I stepped back. What was this guy on? For ten solid seconds, he just stared at me. Then, out of nowhere, he blurted, ¡°You can see them!¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°The monsters! You see the monsters!¡±

 11. The Silent Patient

    The bearded man¡¯s eyes widened. It was like someone had just thrown open the shutters in his mind. Then, as if he was seeing the world for the first time, he blurted out, "You see them! You see the monsters! You will save us!"

    Well this was awkward. I either needed to find an exit or a way to defuse the situation quickly.

    He repeated the words over and over again like some sort of cultish chant. With each iteration, his voice grew louder and more desperate.

    The sadness in his voice was hard to miss. I felt bad for him. I didn¡¯t know what monsters he thought I could see. Maybe it was the ghosts. In that case, yeah, he wasn¡¯t wrong¡ªI could see them.

    However, there was no way in hell I would admit that in a mental hospital. I had no plans to extend my stay.

    I mean even if I saw whatever monsters haunted him, I had more important things to worry about. Plus, the ghosts here seemed harmless. There was no way I was about to risk my freedom to deal with them, just to make this man feel better.

    Six other patients and two nurses turned to watch like this was some kind of weird soap opera. I caught their glares out of the corner of my eye. Until this moment, I hadn¡¯t realized how many others were in here with me. That was less than ideal.

    The bearded guy dropped to his knees and crawled toward me. I wheeled back until my back was against the wall. I felt something behind me fall. It bounced off my wheelchair and hit the floor with a loud thud.

    The sound reverberated throughout the room. I turned to look at the fallen object. It was Dr. Klandermans portrait. It seemed to avoid breaking on impact. Whew, that was close. I didn¡¯t have the funds in my account for a new frame.

    Anyone who wasn¡¯t fully focused on our interaction before, was definitely focused now.

    I heard the whispers around the room grow louder. Great. Just what I needed. If there was anything worse than getting stabbed¡ªagain¡ªit was public attention. I had hoped to stay under the radar, but clearly that wasn¡¯t going to happen.

    Wait. What was he doing? Oh god. His wet lips hit the tops of my feet, and the scratch of his beard tickled my toes. I squirmed. I tried to pull back, but the wheelchair made a quick getaway impossible.

    Okay, this had to stop. I mean, I felt bad for the guy but this had gone way too far. I had boundaries. Not a ton of them, but a stranger kissing my feet was definitely one.

    I swung my foot at his face, hoping to knock him off balance. That was a mistake. He latched onto my legs like a terrified kid clinging to his mom on the first day of school.

    ¡°Please stop, you¡¯re making me uncomfortable,¡± I muttered. The other patients laughed. The guy didn¡¯t seem to care. The harder I tried to push him away, the tighter he held on. It was like some twisted version of a Chinese finger trap.

    No, seriously. Screw this. Someone needed to do something.

    ¡°Help!¡± I yelled.

    As if they were just waiting for my cue, two orderlies rushed in through the hallway door. What took them so long? I was lucky this man just wanted to kiss my feet. If he wanted me dead, there was no way the staff would have made it here in time to save me.

    The two staff members pried him off me, and a wave of relief hit as I watched them slap restraints on him.

    From the floor, he locked eyes with one of the nurses. He gave a deep chested laugh, then screamed, "He will slay you all! We¡¯ll finally be free!"

    I sat there stunned. Wait, there was no way he said that. I must have heard wrong. I looked around. The others watching looked in stunned disbelief. Clearly we all heard the same thing.

    Did that mean he thought she was the monster? The nurse looked like a normal human being. She was definitely not a monster. This man was out of his mind. A sudden realization hit me. Oh yeah, I was in Cottonwood.

    There was no use in trying to understand his motives. You can¡¯t predict the motives of people like him.

    What did I mean people like him. Ha, that was rich of me. I mean just look at me. I was right here beside him in cottonwood. The only thing that separated us was those scrubs. At least for now I wasn¡¯t on the floor trying to kiss someone''s feet. Still, it was a slippery slope to be so judgemental. I didn''t know his story.

    They taped the guy¡¯s mouth shut, but even with the muffled noise, I could tell he was still doing his best to repeat the same words.

    Wow, he wasn¡¯t giving up. Even restrained, the men seemed to struggle to hold him down. I wheeled a few feet back, just to be safe. I had never seen someone so determined to get to me before. At least I knew who to find if I ever felt the need to start a cult. This was pure dedication.

    One of the staff members pulled out a needle. It seemed like some sort of tranquilizer, but what did I know, I wasn¡¯t a doctor. He inserted it into the man''s neck and injected the fluid. Almost instantly, the struggle slowed down until the man finally fell into a deep slumber. The two men picked him up and carried him cautiously out of the room.

    Across the room, two girls who were around my age started to snicker. That was just fantastic. As if I wasn¡¯t already humiliated enough.

    The taller girl, a dark skinned woman, leaned over to whisper something to her friend. I was surprised to see just how put together she was in a place like this. If I didn¡¯t know better, I would have assumed she had a date night on the town later that evening. Unfortunately, there were no fancy restaurants in this place, and I doubted she was all dressed up for the cafeteria.

    Her friend held up a finger as if telling her to wait a second. What was she doing? Oh no. She was headed my way. My brain scrambled for a way out, but there was nowhere to go. I had to play it cool. Maybe she somehow missed the man that just kissed my toes. Who was I kidding, everyone saw that.

    This girl was a good foot shorter than her friend. She was on the thinner side and had thick brown hair that was both long and frizzy. It matched nicely with her dark brown eyes and contrasted off her light skin.

    Both girls were in sweats and a hoodie, like me. No drawstrings, of course. They didn¡¯t trust us with those.

    ¡°Hey, are you alright? We saw what happened. Someone should have warned you to stay away from the people in the scrubs.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, thanks. Believe it or not, this is one of the more normal things that¡¯s happened to me this week.¡±

    She laughed, her smile lit up the room. My discomfort started to melt away. ¡°You must¡¯ve had one hell of a week then. Allow me to introduce myself, I¡¯m Courtney and the girl back there is Aubry.¡±

    ¡°Pleasure to meet you both. I¡¯m Joe. Did you know that guy?¡±

    ¡°They call him Josiah. He.. doesn¡¯t really talk. That outburst like totally caught Aubry and I off guard. We had literally never heard his voice before today. Most of the time he sits in the corner and draws pictures.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯ve never seen him outburst like that before?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Nope, the elopers as we call them like to stay to themselves. They rarely talk, at least to us.¡±

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    ¡°Are you sure? He seemed to have a ton to say to me.¡±

    ¡°Well then maybe he thinks you¡¯re one of them. You should get yourself a pair of those scrubs,¡± she joked.

    ¡°Ha, you¡¯re hilarious. Neither of you girls have them on, so what are you in for?¡±

    The words flew out before I could stop them. Shit, was it alright to ask someone that?

    I cringed. ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m new at this. Can I ask that kind of question here?¡±

    She smiled, but it didn¡¯t quite reach her eyes. ¡°It¡¯s cool. It¡¯s certainly a bold question, though. Some people might not take it so well. It¡¯s best to let them open up to you when they are comfortable.¡±

    She pulled up her sleeves. It revealed a series of thin, red scars that snaked up her arms. I winced.

    ¡°Yeah, depression¡¯s a real bitch. It¡¯s my third time in this place. My foster family likes to look for any opportunity to get rid of me.¡± Her voice was oddly even, as if she were discussing the weather.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear that. They sound like assholes. From what little I¡¯ve seen so far, they¡¯d be stupid to want to send you away.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s nice of you, but you just met me like two minutes ago. I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll wear out my welcome soon enough.¡±

    ¡°Doubtful,¡± I said. I lifted my own hand to show off the bandages wrapped around my knuckles.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re both wondering what happened to me. I ran from the hospital and punched a window. Plus a few days ago, an old drunk guy stabbed me in the leg before offing himself right in front of me. So, you know¡­ typical teenager stuff.¡±

    She blinked, and for a moment I worried I¡¯d overshared, which, let¡¯s face it, I had. But instead of recoiling, she just shook her head. She seemed almost impressed. ¡°Wow, you certainly weren¡¯t kidding about this being the calm part of your week. May I ask why you punched a window?¡±

    ¡°Honestly? I have no idea. I sort of blacked out.¡±

    ¡°Dang new guy, maybe we should get you those scrubs after all.¡±

    Her friend chuckled from the other side of the room. Courtney was both funny and cute. If only we had met under different circumstances. Who was I kidding, she would have never spoken to me in the outside world.

    ¡°To get those you have to be here longer than a month or try to run away, right?¡± I asked.

    ¡°That¡¯s just the unofficial reasons the regulars use here to try and make sense of it. Honestly though, it¡¯s up to the docs. I¡¯ve seen people here for over a month without them. No one knows exactly why they split us up. Personally, I believe it¡¯s so they can more easily control us.¡±

    ¡°How often do people make the transition from regulars to elopers?¡±

    The girls looked at each other. If I didn¡¯t know better, I¡¯d have assumed they were telepathically communicating. Aubry nodded as if to give the go ahead.

    ¡°It¡¯s pretty rare. There was one woman. During my first stint here, Aubry and I made friends with an older woman. This place was terrifying to a young teenage girl. She took us in and cared for us. She showed us the ropes and made us feel loved. So much that we began to call her mom. Neither of us ever knew our real moms, so it meant a lot to be able to call her that.¡±

    She wiped a small tear that had begun to form on the side of her eye. Without her, I¡¯m not sure I¡¯d have survived my first stint here. I miss her.¡±

    ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°Aubry and I both got out. A little over a year later, I got readmitted. I was surprised to find her still here. She was supposed to leave a few weeks after I did. She kept talking about some relative she had to talk to. Apparently she owed her an apology.¡±

    ¡°She didn¡¯t leave?¡±

    ¡°No. I¡¯m not sure what happened. When I saw her she was different. It wasn¡¯t the same woman I met the first time. The other patients said she hadn¡¯t talked in a few months. I tried my best to get her to open up to me, but eventually I had to admit she was gone.¡±

    ¡°We sure do miss the old version. I could really use a mom right about now.¡± Aubry said from across the room. She too had small tears that formed in her eyes. She worked her way over to us.

    ¡°Can I ask her name?¡± Something told me I already knew the answer, but I had to hear her say it.

    One of the nurses walked over. She seemed eager to cut this conversation down. ¡°Sorry to interrupt. It¡¯s lights out time. Let''s go girls.¡±

    Courtney smiled at me. ¡°Sharon.¡±

    ¡°Enough talk, let''s go ladies¡± the nurse said.

    It had to be the same Sharon. What the hell was going on here?

    ###

    I struggled to fall asleep that evening. What the hell happened to Sharon to make her stop talking?

    While Alex was convinced it was from her kids death, Courtney¡¯s story poked doubt in that reasoning.

    I was probably just looking for trouble when there was none to be found. Still, it couldn¡¯t hurt to check. If anything, I owed it to Naomi.

    I closed my eyes, that would have to wait until the morning. For now I had to get some sleep.

    ###

    When I finally opened my eyes, I was once again surrounded by the now somewhat familiar haze of blue and gray. At least this time, I wasn¡¯t blindsided by it. I wondered if Alex ever visited this place. Up to this point, I hadn¡¯t seen it mentioned anywhere in his guide.

    I¡¯ll admit, this seemed like a pretty awesome part of my curse. I normally would have considered my ghost powers a gift, but considering where I currently was, I was beginning to have my doubts.

    This part was pretty neat though. I had the ability to walk this world unnoticed. If only I could summon it at will, life would be so much easier.

    What was I doing? This was not the time to complain. This was my chance. I was finally able to explore without anyone to stop me. Maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªI¡¯d finally get some answers.

    I slipped out of my room and into the hallway. As expected, it was quiet. An occasional nurse strolled by, but other than that, it was empty. Where the heck do I start?

    I walked down a few more halls, but there was nothing. I mean, really, nothing. It was endless corridor after corridor, with the same gross off white paint job on every wall. Each turn felt like deja vu. This felt like a bust.

    Then, I spotted her. The same nurse Josiah threatened earlier in the day. She stood guard outside one of the rooms. She was blocking the door, like she was keeping someone from going inside. That was certainly suspicious.

    I had to check it out. I strolled right through the wall next to her and into the room. Holy crap, it actually worked. I can freaking go through walls! I had to figure out how to control this power. It was fucking awesome!

    Ok, calm down. This is not the time to freak out about ghost powers. I needed to focus on the task at hand.

    The room was small. Smaller than mine. However, this one had only one bed. Huh. Lucky guy. Whoever this was, had the room to themselves. Everyone else I had met was crammed in with roommates. My curiosity got the better of me, and I stepped closer to see who was lying there.

    It was Josiah.

    What the hell was I doing in his room? Maybe they didn¡¯t want him to escape? Maybe that¡¯s why they had someone standing outside. To keep him from getting out. No, that didn¡¯t make sense. The nurse was facing away, like she was trying to keep someone else from coming in.

    I heard a noise. It came from the restroom. Someone else was here.

    The bathroom door creaked open, and out stepped Dr. Klanderman. What was he doing here at such a late hour? He was holding something in his hand, that much was clear. It looked like a large needle.

    He moved quickly and deliberately as he approached Josiah''s bed. Without any hesitation, he jabbed the needle into his neck. Josiah¡¯s eyes flew open, but he didn¡¯t move.

    My heart raced. This wasn¡¯t just wrong¡ªit was downright terrifying. What was he doing to him? I¡¯m no doctor, but whatever this was, it wasn¡¯t legal.

    He climbed onto the bed, straddling Josiah. The poor guy''s eyes¡ªman, his eyes were screaming, begging for help, but his body stayed limp. Not even a single sound escaped.

    It was dark. That combined with the pulsating view of the two men and the cloudy environment made it hard to see what was going on. I needed to get closer. I inched forward, slow and steady. Why was I being so sneaky? It wasn¡¯t like he could see me, right?

    But just as I got close enough to get a look, the doctor shivered. Oh fuck, I must give off the same cold energy the ghosts do. It was so close to being the perfect power!

    The doctors head snapped up. He looked directly at me. I swore he could see straight through my soul.

    "Who''s there?" His voice echoed through the room.

    He yanked the needle out of Josiah¡¯s neck. At least it looked like he did. Hell, it was so hard to tell. This was going to take more practice. I watched as the doctor slipped off Josiah and ran into the bathroom.

    I froze for just a moment, but it was a moment too long. I chased the man into the bathroom, but there was no sign of him. Where the hell did he go?

    I turned around and looked back out into the hallway. The nurse was also gone now. Shit. I looked back to Josiah. He lay there, motionless and terrified. They did something to him. Something awful.

    He wasn¡¯t lying after all. The monsters were real. He tried to tell me. They must have done the same shit to Sharon.

    Damnit, it looked like my chance to lay low was ruined. I had to get to the bottom of this. Unfortunately, time was not on my side and it didn''t look like Josiah was going to be in any state to help.

 12. Read Me

    I finally succumbed to the pull of my own reality. When my eyes opened, the world had reverted to what it was when I first drifted off.

    While the room looked the same, my body felt like It had just put in eight hours of deadlifting. I had only felt this pain once in my life and it was when I was knee deep in the flu. This time around it felt like my muscles were being retrained on how to properly function.

    As cool as this power was, I¡¯d have to be careful with how often I used it. Especially If this was one of the side effects. I was learning that none of these powers came without sacrifice. Oh crap, would I get cancer from this? That would be a pretty horrific tradeoff.

    Wait, Alex said he had cancer before he got this power, right? Ugh, I couldn¡¯t remember. I sure hoped so. I needed to stop overreacting.

    Either way, Hopefully the tradeoff wasn¡¯t that intense. I wonder if the cancer is why Alex never mentioned the ability to walk the spirit world. It¡¯s possible his body was too damaged to make the jump. I couldn¡¯t imagine doing that on chemo.

    A small beam of light came through a small gap in the blinds and landed directly on my face. I held my hand up to block its light.

    Man, what time was it? My best guess was it had to be somewhere between 6 and 7 in the morning. I never opened my blinds at home, so I honestly didn¡¯t know what 6 a.m. looked like.

    That¡¯s when I noticed something strange. There wasn¡¯t a clock in the room. Huh. I had not realized that before. It seemed odd, but then again, there were a lot of odd rules and regulations inside Cottonwood.

    This wouldn¡¯t have even cracked the top 10, especially when you considered just how bare bones this room was. It was reminiscent of the dorm I visited around a month back on a college tour.

    It was just a large room with 4 twin size beds with rails on the sides, 4 nightstands with two spots for clothes, and a single window in the corner that appeared to be glued shut.

    There was one difference between this room and the ones from the college tour. Everything in this room was rounded, from the bed frame to the desk.

    This room also lacked a private bathroom like Josiah''s room had. After seeing Dr. Klanderman crawl out of the bathroom last night, not having one felt like a blessing in disguise.

    After thinking it over, the lack of clock wasn¡¯t that surprising with how bare bones the place was.

    Regardless of the time, it was still early enough for both of my roommates to still be asleep. At least my late night antics hadn¡¯t disrupted them.

    They lay motionless in their beds, breathing slow and steady. That was a relief. They were nice enough guys, but not without their quirks.

    That was especially true for Corey, who for some reason only spoke in quotes from movies or television. He was especially fond of the Will Farrel movie Kicking and Screaming.

    The first time we met, he looked at me and said, ¡°Where do I know you from?¡± I told him we were roommates. He shook his head and replied, ¡°No, that¡¯s not it. I¡¯ll figure it out.¡± It was hilarious the first time. By the fifth time? Not so much.

    The other guy, Isaac, was a different story. I had no clue why he was here, and to be honest, I wasn¡¯t about to ask. I did hear from one of the other patients that he was from some war torn country. That tracked. There was something in his eyes that told me I couldn''t mentally understand his story.

    Something new in the room caught my attention. What was it? It sat on my nightstand like a present just waiting for me to find it on Christmas day. I rubbed the gunk out of my eyes, trying to make sense of it.

    Holy crap.

    Alex was right.

    In one of his videos, he said if you tried to get rid of the laptop, it would find its way back to you. And there it was. It sat on the nightstand like it had been there the whole time. This wasn¡¯t just weird; it broke all the rules. Physics, time, logic¡ªyou name it. It shouldn¡¯t have been possible.

    How did it get here? I glanced around the room, half-expecting to find some clue. There was no way it could¡¯ve just waltzed in here without someone noticing. There were cameras by the doors. With that plus the windows glued shut there was only one real option, the laptop had materialized out of thin air.

    With Corey and Isaac still out cold, I slid out of bed. I quietly pulled the laptop toward me. I had to be discreet.

    Electronics definitely were not allowed in the building. This was a giant risk, but it was a calculated one. I had to see if there was anything on here that could help.

    I pressed the power button. The screen flickered to life, and sure enough, the battery was at 100%. Of course it was. That was one more thing to add to the growing pile of bizarre, reality bending features that came with this laptop.

    The videos were tempting, but there was no way I could watch them now. This was already risky. Adding audio would be downright insane.

    Instead, I pulled up the readme file Alex had mentioned. It was a file full of scans of written notes. He mentioned this was a book at one point in time. This must have come from the previous ghost seers.

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    It was page after page of little notes, scribbles, and ideas. It looks like it went back at least to the late 1800¡¯s, but some of the notes lacked a date, so it was impossible to know for sure.

    That¡¯s when I stumbled across a note that stopped in my tracks.

    <blockquote>

    "The closer I feel to the spirits, the closer I feel to death."

    Isabella, 1929.

    </blockquote>

    Come the fuck on, Isabella! That was it? That was all you could give me? How was that supposed to help anyone? My cheeks burned red with annoyance.

    I forced myself to keep reading. There had to be something more useful in here than Isabella¡¯s cryptic, morbid fortune-cookie wisdom.

    Page after page of these notes, and one thing became clear: the names tied to these messages, didn¡¯t last long. It felt like a new name appeared every five years or so.

    That was less than ideal for me, to say the least. Unfortunately, I didn¡¯t have the ability to quit. Or at least I wasn¡¯t aware of one. I decided to park that worry for now. I only had so much time with this laptop. The boys would be up any minute.

    Eventually, I found something that actually made sense. Something that I could work with.

    <blockquote>

    "Sometimes, in order to communicate with the spirits, you must first remind them of who they were before their deaths. Minds can get lost in the void."

    Marcellus, 1978.

    </blockquote>

    Now that was more like it. Something useful. Maybe these ghosts had spent so long trapped in the void¡ªor, hell, maybe just in this building¡ªthat they¡¯d forgotten who they were.

    That could explain why they were so scattered and hard to reach. If I could somehow remind them of who they were in life, maybe they¡¯d talk. Maybe I¡¯d finally get some answers.

    But, of course, that raised another problem. How was I supposed to remind them? It wasn¡¯t like I had their high school yearbooks lying around. And even if I figured that part out, I still had no clue how to force them to talk. Maybe Marcellus mentioned that in more detail somewhere else in his notes.

    I was about to dive deeper, when movement in the corner of the room caught my eye. Corey had started to wake.

    Shit. My time was up.

    I slammed the laptop shut and shoved it between the mattress and the bed frame. My heart pounded. The last thing I needed was for Corey to catch me with it.

    But at least now I had something. A plan. A way forward. I just had to figure out how to remind one of these spirits of who they were. Maybe then I could actually start making some sense out of this mess.

    ###

    I figured the best place to start was the common room. Maybe there I could find something useful, or learn something from one of the other patients that would help me in my quest.

    The room was pretty light so far. Three people, in sweats, sat at the far corner, heads down, shuffling cards. I recognized the game right away¡ªKings in the Corner. My great grandma used to play it with me when I was little.

    Another 2 patients, these ones in their familiar blue scrubs, sat on a couch over by me in front of a small television. Their nurse sat on the far end of the room talking with another nurse. They had a ghost watching next to them.

    The television was one of the few electronics the patients got to enjoy during their stay. It looked like "The Price is Right¡± was on.

    Seeing the show gave me some fond memories of my childhood. Whenever I was sick as a kid, my mom would get me a sprite and put on the show.

    Maybe the show would help the spirits remember like it did for me?

    I wheeled over to the ghost, ¡°I¡¯m here to help,¡± I whispered. I leaned toward him. ¡°You can talk to me.¡±

    Nothing. His eyes stayed glued to the game show. Of course, it wasn¡¯t going to be that easy. Nothings ever that simple.

    Josiah walked into the room. Unlike last time, his gaze stayed to the floor as he walked to the other end of the room to an empty table full of paper and markers. His nurse joined the other two nurses.

    It was probably best I stayed away for now. The last thing I wanted was another incident like yesterday.

    I watched the TV with the others for around 10 minutes. I had no idea how to get them to talk to me. Finally, a familiar game came on the screen. I just went for it.

    I leaned over to them, ¡°Oh man, Palinko. I love this game, what¡¯s your favorite?¡±

    Nothing. Not even a glance my way. The screen had them in a trance. Courtney wasn¡¯t kidding about the elopers¡ªthey didn¡¯t talk, at least not to me.

    I sighed and started to wheel toward the card players. They''d probably be my best bet for some answers.

    Wait what was that? Something stopped me in my tracks. Josiah had dropped a drawing on the floor. It was hard to make out, but there was something about it that looked familiar. As I wheeled closer, the lines began to take shape.

    My heart skipped a beat.

    The drawing. It looked just like the guy! The one from the Walmart parking lot. Leather jacket, Broncos cap, and the scar on his cheek. It was all there! Josiah was no artist, but there was no doubt in my mind, that was the civic man.

    How did Josiah know about him? How could he have drawn him so perfectly? Did he have powers too? Hold on, he''s dead. Right?

    I looked back at the nurses, they seemed distracted by whatever juicy gossip the larger woman with the 80¡¯s perm hairstyle had to share. I reached down and slid the picture under my shirt.

    I surveyed the area. It was highly unlikely the paper just casually fell this far from his table. No, this wasn¡¯t an accident. I was sure he wanted me to see it.

    As I passed by his table, I whispered just loud enough for him to hear, ¡°I¡¯m listening. I¡¯ll help you take care of those monsters. But I¡¯ll need your help.¡±

    He paused his drawing. It was subtle, but deliberate enough that I knew he understood.

    So what did Civic man have to do with this place? It felt like I had more pieces of the puzzle, but I still lacked a critical piece of information. I had to dig deeper.

 13. Lunch Plans

    The rest of the morning was¡­ well, relatively boring by my new standards. It was funny how that realization snuck up on me. What kind of life was I living where a span of four hours without being impaled, possessed, or emotionally beaten now counted as dull?

    Was this my new standard of living? Had the other ghost seers lived such a chaotic life, or was this unusual, even by their standards? I had to hope for the latter because at my current rate, I¡¯d be dead within the week.

    I sat in my wheelchair, pretending to watch as a handful of patients attempted to perform a morning yoga routine in the recreation room. By this point, most of the patients were half assing their workout. Even the instructor looked to be phoning it in.

    That was fine by me. I had strategically picked this part of the room because no one was going to ask the boy in the wheelchair to get up and do yoga.

    My actions from earlier in the morning hadn¡¯t gone unnoticed. Around attempt number six to coax some ghosts into remembering who they were, I started catching sideways glances from the staff.

    To them, it probably looked like I was talking to myself. If I was being honest, they weren''t completely wrong. Regardless of what I tried, none of the ghosts even remotely acknowledged my existence.

    It was extremely frustrating to fail time after time without seeing a hint of progress. I had to step back and remind myself, there was a good chance that this wasn¡¯t the ghosts fault. No, It was on me to find a way to unlock their memories.

    Still, in Cottonwood, if you talk to yourself too much you get put on a list. Even if I did look my best in blue, I had no desire to slip on those scrubs.

    For now, I had to lay low. So it was either sit here and watch as people bent over to touch their toes or go to group therapy. It was an easy decision. I needed alone time to figure out how to continue my efforts without drawing attention to myself. This option provided me the best opportunity to think undisturbed.

    Plus, I had no idea how to talk to people about my problems without being placed in here permanently. I had to avoid therapy for as long as possible. I doubt any therapist outside of Naomi''s would even take me seriously. Even if she believed me, I¡¯m not sure I fully believed myself yet.

    I had to focus, time was slowly running out while I sat here bitching about my life.

    Damn, this was stressful. I wish I wasn¡¯t on the clock. I was never able to think clearly when time was involved.

    That¡¯s why I always hated games like Age of Empires or Starcraft. I would have picked a turn based game any day of the week.

    I¡¯d honestly give my left nut at this point to get rid of this power so I could go home, pop in my copy of the game civilization, grab some pizza and mountain dew, and zone out for a few mindless hours of uninterrupted fun.

    But no, I had to figure this out. Maybe I could get someone to cover for me, act as a kind of ghost whisperer proxy. But who would I even trust with that? And more importantly, who in here would do it without asking too many questions?

    The bell for lunch rang. Eh, Screw it. I needed food. Perhaps over lunch I would be able to come up with a better plan.

    ###

    As I wheeled into the large open room, nostalgia hit me like a bat to the face. The lunchroom was set up like an exact replica of my elementary school cafeteria, right down to the cheap plastic trays and constant supervision by the staff.

    At the far end of the room, a small section held the day¡¯s lunch trays. The line was beginning to back up. Unfortunately, we only had an hour to get our lunch and eat and that included the wait time.

    The room itself was laid out with ten long, dull grey tables, their rounded edges were accompanied by benches bolted to the floor.

    The walls were painted a drab off-white that seemed to match the equally boring white of the tile floor.

    It was clear that whoever designed this room hated happiness. My best guess was that it was probably some corporation that got their design pallet from the state prison.

    Someone needed to email that company and remind them that a little pop of color never hurt anyone.

    Above me, a drop-down ceiling sagged under the weight of its own tired fluorescent lights. A couple of them flickered now and then, casting jumpy shadows on the staff as they moved about.

    The whole idea of the building being modeled after Ravenwood Elementary felt a little degrading if I was being honest. It was one more example of how poorly people were treated in this place.

    There wasn¡¯t a single patient in this place under the age of sixteen, and yet they treated everyone in here, regardless of their age or illness, like little kids.

    I shuffled into line with the rest of the patients. Even with the long line, everything moved surprisingly quick. Before I knew it, I had some kind of slop plopped onto my tray that smelled like blended up fish.

    Well that was a giant disappointment. Even Big Al¡¯s would¡¯ve looked like a five-star joint compared to this. At least the carrots and bread looked normal.

    Hell, they even had those little box milk cartons for us. I used to love those things. Well at least I wouldn¡¯t starve to death.

    I glanced around, trying to look for a place to sit while also keeping an eye on the nurses as they monitored the room. They seemed to follow the same repetitive pattern. They had done it so much that their outline was literally worn into the white tile floor.

    I watched as the larger gossipy nurse from earlier walked to spot A, stood there for a bit and then proceeded back to point B. This was exactly how NPC¡¯s moved in those Hitman video games.

    Growing up I remember complaining on a gaming forum that the games were so unrealistic because no one would patrol like that. I guess I owed the creators of that game an apology.

    On top of that, It was also clear that a large chunk of them, the gossipy nurse included, weren''t even paying attention to what was going on around them. I guess that meant they also believed this was a complete waste of time.

    Movement from the far end of the room caught my eye. Courtney and Aubry were waving me over, their arms flailing like I was some long-lost friend. My first lunch in a new place, and I already had multiple people to sit with.

    On top of that, they were the two cutest girls in this place. That would have never happened in Ravenwood.

    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    That had me thinking, If I was a solid five in the outside world, maybe I was like a seven here. There wasn¡¯t a ton of competition around. I guess that was one positive to my situation.

    I wheeled over and sat my tray down between the two girls. Courtney grinned. ¡°What¡¯s up, new guy?¡±

    I had to find the perfect reply. For the love of god, don¡¯t bring up your giant Pokemon card collection or any of your Dungeons and Dragons characters. She¡¯s waiting on a reply. Why was I suddenly this nervous? Say something!

    I finally replied, ¡°Not much. You?¡±

    Nailed it!

    Courtney smirked. ¡°The nurses have been talking about you.¡±

    That stopped me in my tracks. My nerves quickly transitioned to worry. ¡°They have? How do you know?¡± I didn¡¯t mean to sound so tense, but having the staff gossiping about me wasn¡¯t exactly comforting, especially after what I was up to earlier in the morning.

    Aubry leaned forward and chuckled. ¡°You have no idea how chatty these nurses are. If you just sit there and listen, it¡¯s like they forget we¡¯re not kids.¡±

    She gestured at her chest, puffing it out to emphasize her point. ¡°Do I look like a child to you?¡±

    Courtney shoved her playfully. ¡°Aubry! Stop it!¡±

    My face heated up. I focused on my tray, pretending the slop was interesting.

    Courtney rolled her eyes. ¡°Ignore her.¡±

    I cleared my throat. ¡°So¡­ what were they saying about me?¡±

    ¡°They seemed worried that Josiah talked to you,¡± Courtney whispered.

    ¡°What? Why?¡±

    ¡°Weird, right? We thought the same thing. You¡¯d think they''d consider him saying anything as progress.¡±

    I sat back, trying to keep my face neutral. How much could I trust these two? There was no way I could tell them I talked to ghosts and that I knew Dr. Klanderman was up to something. But I didn¡¯t have time to play it safe, either.

    While I weighed my options, I caught Courtney and Aubry¡¯s eyes shift as a short woman who appeared to be in her late 40¡¯s was wheeled to one of the tables.

    She was a shorter black woman with an extremely thin waist, naturally curly black hair, and eyes that appeared slightly caved in nature. She had on the typical eloper scrubs.

    I saw the connection to Naomi immediately. The resemblance was uncanny. It had to be Sharon.

    ¡°Is that her, the woman from your story?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that''s mom.¡± Aubry and Courtney said almost in unison.

    ¡°She looks to be getting worse, she''s so frail now,¡± Aubry said.

    ¡°She does look worse. She had only been gone a few days,¡± Courtney said.

    ¡°Is that normal?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Is what normal?¡± Aubry asked in reply.

    ¡°I meant for her to go away for a few days.¡±

    ¡°They don¡¯t do it very often, but every once in a while an eloper will disappear for a while. Rumor is that it¡¯s for private treatment, but somehow they always come out looking worse. Still, a change this drastic was unusual.¡± Aubry said.

    Courtney looked lost in thought. It was clear she was struggling to hold back tears. I imagined it was hard to finally find a person to call mom, only for them to slowly drift away right in front of your eyes.

    It was clear they were suspicious of what was happening to the woman. This was my chance. If I had any desire for an ally, these two were most likely my best options. I just had to ask them for help.

    My stomach tightened as if a million butterflies suddenly tried to explode from my insides. I froze. The nerves were back, but this time it was for a different reason.

    I hadn¡¯t felt this uncomfortable about a conversation since my Junior year of homecoming when I asked a girl named Ella to be my date. Sadly, she had already agreed to go with Johnny Larson.

    They always say go for it, the worst they can say is no. Yeah, that was bullshit. There were worse things than a simple no. After I asked, things became really awkward between Ella and I. We went from being close friends to barely speaking. Would that happen here?

    I had just made these friends, but what if they heard what I had to say and thought I was some crazy weirdo and decided they wanted nothing to do with me? Or worse, what if they turn me into the staff?

    I took a deep breath in an attempt to lower my pulse. This wasn¡¯t homecoming, these girls weren¡¯t Ella, and tomorrow I got out of here anyways. Let¡¯s be honest, as much as I wanted to, I probably wouldn¡¯t even see them after tomorrow. I needed help now if I was going to solve this in time.

    Fuck it.

    ¡°Okay, I know this is going to sound crazy, but I need you both to hear me out,¡± I whispered, scanning the room to make sure no one was listening. ¡°I think something strange is going on here.¡±

    I pulled the folded paper from my shirt and slid it onto Courtney¡¯s lap. ¡°Without making it obvious, do you recognize the guy in this drawing?¡±

    Something inside me felt oddly excited about my rebellious action. This must be why all those popular kids passed notes in school. Even after everything I had done this week, this was quite the rush.

    Courtney glanced down, her expression shifting. ¡°Based on the hat and scar, it looks like Wyatt. Why do you have a drawing of him?¡±

    ¡°Wyatt? Who¡¯s Wyatt?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know his last name.¡±

    ¡°Forget his last name,¡± I leaned in. ¡°Just tell me who he is.¡±

    She looked uncomfortable. ¡°I don¡¯t really know much. He was a nurse around a year or so ago before he left here to work at the medical center.¡±

    ¡°Wait, are you talking about the guy with the weird scar under his eye? I couldn¡¯t forget a cutie like that. Even with the nasty scar. I saw him the other day when I was headed to group chat. He was dropping a box of stuff off to Dr. Klanderman,¡± Aubry chimed in.

    Wait¡ªwhat? My mind raced. Wyatt was here last week with Dr. Klanderman right before we found his dead body in that warehouse?

    What the hell is going on in this town? I looked around; there was no sign of vengeful spirits anywhere. That wasn¡¯t a surprise. Who were they following if he was dead? Were they even still in town? I needed more answers.

    ¡°Hold on, you said he showed up here this week?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. I tried to wave to him, but he completely ignored me. Ignored all of this! Can you believe that asshole? He used to be one of the few friendly nurses in this place. Apparently, that hospital turned him into an asshole.¡±

    ¡°Aubry, he was like 10 years older than you,¡± Courtney pointed out.

    Aubry threw a hand up to her face. ¡°Talk to the hand, Courtney. You know I like my men mature. No offense.¡±

    I took a little offense to that. I always felt I was pretty mature for my age. However, this was not the time to argue.

    ¡°None taken.¡±

    ¡°Why did you have a picture of him?¡± Courtney pressed, ignoring Aubry''s hand.

    Should I tell them he¡¯s dead? No, that would open me up to a lot of unwanted questions. I had to be honest while still keeping my distance.

    ¡°Josiah drew it. That part isn''t important. I think the staff is doing something to the elopers. I mean, think about it. Why else would they be upset when Josiah talked to me? He must know something.¡±

    The anticipation as the girls contemplated my comment made time slow to a crawl.

    ¡°Like what?¡± Courtney finally asked.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure, but I think they are drugging them somehow. If I had to guess, it''s been going on for a while now.¡±

    Courtney glanced over at Mom, then back to Aubry. ¡°It would make sense.¡±

    ¡°Are you two out of your mind?¡± Aubry hissed.

    ¡°Aubry, Mom doesn¡¯t just go from the woman we knew to that without some outside influence. Drugs would make a lot of sense,¡± Courtney argued.

    ¡°I guess. If you¡¯re right though, confronting them could be really dangerous.¡±

    The bell rang, lunch was over. My time was running out. This was my last shot.

    ¡°If we can prove it, I have a cop friend who can help us save Sharon and all of the others. But I only have until tomorrow to do it. I don¡¯t think I can make it happen without your help.¡±

    ¡°Fine¡­¡± Aubry said reluctantly.

    ¡°Alright, new guy, how do we prove it?¡± Courtney asked.

    ¡°Let''s meet up before dinner. I have a plan, but I need to hash out a few details first.¡±

 14. The Chester Bridge Incident

    I needed a real plan. I had just lied to Courtney and Aubry. I hated lying. I had already messed up, but you know what, none of that would matter if I could figure something out before dinner.

    With the girls on board I had a shot to get the answers I needed to save Sharon, and all of the other patients.

    If I was lucky, maybe I¡¯d find information on this Wyatt guy too. But to be honest, that was extra credit at this point.

    I already had plans to focus on him tomorrow after they let me out. Hopefully Murph had found something while I was locked up here.

    The staff split us up after lunch for what they referred to as the afternoon visitation period. It seemed like a fancy way of saying a nap time for those of you without family.

    While some patients went to the visitation area to reconnect with loved ones, the rest of us were shuffled off and locked in our rooms.

    Luckily, being under temporary care meant I wasn¡¯t allowed visitors. That was fine with me. I had no desire to talk to my parents until I was forced to. I tried to imagine how disappointed they were going to be once they saw me again.

    It was completely out of character for me to run from that hospital. Well, at least it was for old Joe from a week ago. My new life was probably almost as hard for them as it was for me.

    Yeah, there was absolutely no way that conversation would go well for me.

    Nope, not happening. Not today. Maybe they could lock me up in here for a few more days.

    Either way, both of my roommates had people who cared enough to visit them. That was ideal for me. This whole situation felt almost suspiciously perfect.

    I better not question it. With a little under an hour of uninterrupted laptop time, this would probably be my only shot to learn something before my time was up. That wasn''t a lot of time.

    I pulled out the laptop and clicked open the readme file. I skimmed through the notes. This time I decided to focus strictly on Marcellus. Maybe his story would help me get the answers I needed.

    I did a quick control F to find his first passage. I wanted to start at the beginning this time so I could understand his story.

    <blockquote>

    "I highly doubt any of ya''ll reading this chose this life. Yeah, me neither. I guess there''s no use crying over spilt milk.

    For me, this was just a simple case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

    I had finally signed on for my first stable route, delivering goods for a regional produce company. It was a route which took me past the Chester Bridge, that ran across the Mississippi river. I was relieved to have that consistent money coming in.

    Plus, the old timers always preached about consistency being a trucker''s best friend.

    Having stable money for the first time in my life truly did feel like a blessing. But as much as I loved the idea of that weekly paycheck, I had a bad feeling about this new gig.

    The day had started like a busted can of biscuits. Just found out some disappointing personal news, plus there were big storms rolling in from Kansas City. It was bound to be a bumpy night.

    The good news was that big storms meant light traffic. Much rather deal with rain than people. There ain¡¯t nothing better than a nice quiet drive on an empty road.

    I had been about five hours into my route, doing my best to dodge the storms that were wrecking nearby towns when I saw a woman standing on top of the Chester bridge.

    Now, my momma, she raised me to be a good christian man. When I saw that young lady on top of that bridge looking to jump, well I couldn¡¯t just drive by. I had to get her off that ledge. I had to save her poor soul.

    That was right around a week ago now, and while I¡¯d love to tell you this all had one big happy ending, you know that¡¯d be a lie, and I ain¡¯t a lying man.

    Now, I¡¯ve got this dang devil book I can¡¯t seem to get rid of and the spirit of the woman that seemed to come along for the ride.

    It feels like I¡¯ve been punished for not doing more to save her and having impure thoughts about just driving away that night. But I know this isn¡¯t his will.

    No, there ain¡¯t no way this is the lord''s work. Only something purely evil could have come up with a punishment like this.

    As for the woman, she looks more lost than a goose in a hailstorm.

    I¡¯ve seen a lot during my time on the road. Laced out men high on meth bent over in the streets, drivers trafficking drugs and people across state borders, and heck, even saw a pony show once by accident. I would not recommend it.

    All that to say, I¡¯ve never seen something worse than what this woman is going through, and for what? Nothing.

    She couldn¡¯t handle the gig. I know I¡¯ve only been a week on the job so far, but I already know, thanks to her, that there ain¡¯t no easy way out.

    This is my life now. Lord guide me.¡±

    Marcellus, June 3rd, 1977

    </blockquote>

    I sat there, staring down at the page, trying to piece together what Marcellus was talking about.

    So the girl on the bridge must have been the previous owner. There was only one log attached to her name.

    It was dated just over a week before Marcellus'' post.

    I read it aloud under my breath to the best of my ability.

    <blockquote>

    ¡°El cap¨ªtulo final. Hasta que vuelva a tus brazos, mi amor.¡±

    Maria, May 26th, 1977.

    </blockquote>

    I sure wish I had paid more attention in my Intro to Spanish class. I recognized the word final and I¡¯m pretty sure that mi amor meant my love.

    But beyond that? I was in the dark. My best guess was that she saw a protector stuck to her when she got the power, probably a loved one and that was too much to take. If I was right, that would have been an awful story. At least I never knew Nicole before I met her ghost.

    This wasn¡¯t fair to Maria, who had clearly suffered in her own way and wasn¡¯t fair to Marcellus, who just tried to be a good person.

    Hell, it wasn¡¯t fair to me either.

    At least they were both adults who¡¯d lived long enough to start a life and a career. Me? I was just a stupid kid caught up in this nightmare.

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Oh fuck. Were there people even younger than me in this book? The mere possibility twisted my stomach into knots. No kid should have to deal with this kind of bull shit. Not now, not ever.

    But if I¡¯ve learned anything by now, it¡¯s that death doesn¡¯t give a damn about what should happen. No one should be in this situation at all. Let the spirits move on! What are they even here for?

    Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring the words on the screen. No, not now. I yanked my hoodie sleeve up to my face, wiping away the moisture.

    "Get it together, Joe," I whispered, teeth clenched. ¡°You don¡¯t have time for a breakdown right now.¡±

    I took a deep breath. I had to remember that everyone in this file was most likely already dead and had moved on.

    Worrying about the ones who came before me wouldn¡¯t change a thing. This was my time, and as much as I didn¡¯t want to admit it, I still had a job to do.

    I focused back on Marcellus¡¯s passages. I tried to quickly scroll through it to gauge the length.

    Oh man, he had written a ton during his time. There was probably only so much you could do in the seventies while on the road.

    His next few entries were pretty ordinary. They mostly covered his first mission. In a selfish, terrible way, I felt a little relief. Marcellus had failed his first mission too. At least I wasn¡¯t alone.

    Ok, this was going to take way more time than I had available. I was in a time crunch.

    Maybe if I just searched the passages for the terms woman and bridge, I would be able to get what I needed. That seemed like my best bet for now.

    I typed the words into the search bar. There were a handful of passages that contained one or both of those words. I should have enough time to read all of those.

    With that thought, I kept reading, desperately hoping to stumble across something useful. This specific passage started off heavy.

    <blockquote>

    "Father forgive me. I killed a man today.

    Not just any man, the man that raised me. The man that got me a job in the trucking industry. The man I once called my best friend.

    Although my body did the damage, it was not me. I swear on my life. The devil himself took control.

    Some primal rage had unleashed from inside me. I had no memory of what happened next.

    When I helped him unload the back of his truck and I found those three young women¡­ I knew what he had done.

    Like that woman from the bridge, they seemed lost. Their eyes stared straight into the abyss, like a calf staring at a new gate.

    I''ve only met ghosts who were killed tragically with that look in their eyes. It''s a look I hope most of you never see.

    My vision went dark. When I woke, I saw his remains strewn out all over the floor.

    The haze that fogged the girls memory seemed to vanish into thin air.

    I watched as the life slowly returned to their eyes. It reminded me of my youth when one of us would come down off our high.

    When one of the girls reached out and touched me, I saw everything he had done. Every gory detail.

    I felt no sadness for the man I once knew. I¡¯m not proud of what I did. But after what he did to those girls, I just hope one day I can be forgiven.

    At least after that moment, they finally had the courage to pass on. I had become the sole holder of those terrible scars.

    Mental scars that will haunt me the rest of my life.

    He truly was a monster, and now I can''t shake the fear that I might have become one too.¡±

    Marcellus, September 19th, 1977

    </blockquote>

    I set the laptop down.

    He had to kill the man to get them to remember?

    My hands trembled and my pulse quickened. My face was flushed, a bead of sweat rushed down the side of my cheek.

    I reached toward my chest, I felt my heart race. Am I having a heart attack?

    Aren¡¯t I too young for one of those? My chest tightened. This must be a panic attack. I¡¯ve never felt this way before.

    "Breathe," I whispered, clutching at my chest.

    "Breathe!" My lungs refused to cooperate. Why can¡¯t I breathe?

    Oh God...

    No, no, no. I can¡¯t kill Dr. Klanderman. I¡¯m not a killer. I¡¯m not some monster lurking in the shadows. I¡¯m... not. I¡¯m not. But the thought wrapped itself around my mind. I doubled over, my vision blurring.

    I was going to pass out.

    With desperate, fumbling fingers, I reached for the pillowcase. If I could use it like a paper bag maybe I could stop this feeling. I pulled it toward me. Shit, it was sewn shut.

    FUCK!

    Tears welled up, blurring my vision further. I wiped at them with my sleeve. I paused. My sleeve!

    Quickly, I pulled the fabric over my nose and mouth, trying to mimic the effect of a paper bag. I took deep, measured breaths. Slowly my vision returned and I felt my pulse slow.

    Holy shit, that was terrifying.

    I had to find another way. I wasn¡¯t a killer. That¡¯s why there were people like Naomi. She was trained to kill people. She could pull the trigger if it came to that. I... I wasn¡¯t sure I could. I wasn¡¯t even sure I wanted to learn how.

    I thought of Marcellus'' story and the black outs I had been having. Were they related? Man, I sure hoped not.

    At least for now, the black outs had been mostly innocent. Only mild home invasion. I had to do everything in my power to keep it that way.

    I had to keep reading. There had to be a clue somewhere in his ramblings, something that would point to another way out of this mess. But how much time did I have left? The absence of clocks in this room really sucked.

    I¡¯m sure it¡¯s fine. I picked the laptop back up. I had to keep going. The answers had to be here, buried somewhere in these passages.

    <blockquote>

    ¡°Today marks six months since the night she took her life.

    Before today, I had purposely avoided driving over that bridge.

    Going almost an hour out of the way to get to St. Louis.

    However, I finally watched Roots. There was something about holding onto your past that gave me an idea to help make her remember.

    If I found out more about her, maybe then, I could use that information to help her remember herself.

    Plus, it was the right thing to do. While I''ll never agree with her taking her own life, after six months on the job, I don''t blame her for not being able to handle it.

    This job is not for the faint of heart. She had to have a proper goodbye.

    Seeing as I''m the only one who knows why she jumped, that made the decision easier than a hot knife through butter.

    Unfortunately, that meant I had to man up and face what happened.

    There was no car nearby that night, so she definitely walked to that bridge. That mean''t she had to be from the town of Chester. It was the only town within walking distance.

    Apparently the town was known as the home of Popeye. I had no idea why, I personally hadn¡¯t ever watched the show, but the town looked small and all small towns needed their gimmick.

    Having grown up in a small town myself, I knew her jump would have spread around that town like wildfire. I decided to pop into the local library to see if I could find anything on her.

    Like I thought, the librarian in town remembered the case and the woman. She told me a bit about the girl, then brought a copy of the local paper from the next day for me to look at. She told me her obituary was in there."

    </blockquote>

    I was pulled back to my surroundings by a sound emanating through the room. It was the bell signaling visiting hours were up.

    No it can¡¯t be over yet. I¡¯m so close to answers!

    Just one more passage. It was worth the risk.

    <blockquote>

    ¡°There she was. The woman from the bridge. Maria Rasario, aged 38 at the time of her death.

    Her husband Juan Carlos had passed a mere week before her. That was when it clicked.

    Her husband''s name was in the guide. It had to be him. It made too much sense. She got her powers from him. She must have known.

    When he died, she purposely grabbed the book and wrote the last chapter in an attempt to bury it at the bottom of the river. She wanted to end it all, to save all of us.

    El cap¨ªtulo final. - The Final Chapter.

    Well ain¡¯t that some bull honkey. She had tried to save us all. It had nothing to do with her not being fit for the job. She must have seen what this power does to a person.

    I felt horrible. I had to make her remember, to help her move on.

    That night, I took her to the bridge where everything happened and read her single entry into the book out loud.

    That was¡­"

    </blockquote>

    My time was cut short. My back was to the door as it swung open. Oh fuck, I waited too long. I slammed the laptop closed and shoved it under my sheets.

    I turned to see a nurse walking into the room. It was the same nurse that stood guard outside Josiah''s room last night. Had they seen the laptop? Oh man I was so screwed.

    ¡°Good afternoon Mr. Raymond. The doctor would like to have a word with you. Please follow me.¡±

    ¡°Why does he want to see me?¡±

    ¡°My job is simply to bring you to him. He¡¯s in a hurry today, so please follow me.¡±

    This... Was less than ideal for me. I think I might be in trouble.

 15. Dead Men Dont Talk

    When I was in the third grade all of the boys in my class were addicted to wrestling. We all wanted to grow up to be strong and famous wrestlers like Stone Cold Steve Austin or the Rock. I was no exception.

    Every day at recess, my friend and I would practice different moves that we caught on television the night before. We were big fans of a specific move called the samoan drop. It was where you took your opponent and flipped them over your shoulder then slammed them to the ground.

    Unfortunately, while practicing that drop, one of the playground supervisors saw us and mistook casual fun for a serious fight. That march to the principal''s office, with her hands wrapped around our shirt collars, was one of the first times I had been in serious trouble without understanding why.

    This march was eerily similar. I had no idea where we were going. However, It was obvious that I was in trouble and I had absolutely no idea what it was that I had done.

    That trip as a child ended in me getting interviewed by a school resource officer and receiving three days of in school suspension, despite my friend and I holding strong that the entire encounter was a big misunderstanding. I was hopeful that this time, I would be able to properly defend my case.

    Unfortunately, with how crooked the doctor had already proven to be, my chance to get out of this without some level of punishment seemed unlikely.

    The nurse wheeled us into the last room at the end of a long hallway. There was something about the crooked smile on her face as she unlocked the door that gave me an uneasy feeling. That combined with her curly black hair, crooked nose, and orange tinted skin caused her to give off real Sanderson sister vibes.

    This room was white walled like all the others, with white tile on the floor. It was similar to the cafeteria, only this place had nothing in it outside of a single sheeted mattress on the floor and a chair in the corner.

    While the mostly empty room was already concerning on its own, it was nothing compared to what the nurse held out in front of me.

    There, in her wrinkled hands, were a freshly unpacked pair of blue scrubs. They looked to be exactly my size. Well fuck. This might be worse than a simple in school suspension.

    ¡°Why do you have those?¡± I asked, feeling the nervous tone in my voice.

    ¡°Listen young man, my job is to get you ready for treatment. My notes state that you need to wear these, so how about we stop this little game of twenty questions before it starts. Don¡¯t make this any harder than it needs to be.¡±

    ¡°What the hell do clothes have to do with treatment? Wait, what treatment? ¡±

    The nurse didn¡¯t respond right away. Instead she revealed a button in her hand that she had clearly just pushed.

    I pictured myself giving her a pile driver. It put a brief smile on my face before I was quickly brought back to reality. I couldn''t believe it, but I was beginning to miss Agatha from Ravenwood Medical. At least she was just mean and not a potential accomplice to evil. At least I don''t think she was.

    I watched as nurse assholes smile quickly vanished and was quickly replaced with a scowl. It was clear that her patience was wearing thin.

    ¡°Just do what I ask and put on the clothes,¡± she said.

    That button press must have signaled an alarm somewhere, because before I knew it, two burly looking men blasted through the door. They walked up next to me, their muscles flexed to assert their dominance.

    Well that was completely unnecessary. They certainly didn¡¯t need two of these body builders. Although it was flattering that they were so concerned about me that they sent both.

    ¡°Mr. Raymond, I am not the doctor, I¡¯m simply here to ensure you are ready for treatment when he does show up. If you don¡¯t comply, I will be forced to make Miles and Mikael intervene. Trust me when I say they will not be nearly as nice as I am.¡±

    ¡°I doubt that,¡± I whispered under my breath.

    Out of alternatives, I took the scrubs and tried my best to put them on. I was certainly in no hurry.

    Plus, It was surprisingly hard to change from my wheelchair, even without three people watching.

    On top of the three living humans, there were also two spirits in the room with us. At least the spirits had the decency to look away as I changed. Like all of the other spirits in this place, they looked to be completely unaware of their predicament.

    I did take note that one of them appeared to have been an old basketball player, as he stood just under seven feet tall. I tried to not stare, but I found that extremely difficult given how large he was compared to the other men in the room.

    ¡°What are you looking at?¡± the nurse asked. She was looking at the spot where the man stood.

    Shit, she caught me. The good news was she clearly had no idea they were here. Maybe that leverage would help me get out of this. At this point, it was all I had to go on.

    The door swung open and Dr. Klanderman stepped in. He flashed a quick smile in my direction before walking over and whispering something into the nurse''s ear.

    She returned with that same unnatural looking smile. Maybe that was just her face? If so, I felt bad for the woman. That was a smile only a mother could love and she seemed old enough for that to seem unlikely.

    Dr. Klanderman on the flip side was a relatively young looking man. His chiseled jawline, perfect five-o''clock shadow, and seemingly professionally quaffed hair matched the aura of importance he carried. He wore a dark and expensive looking black suit jacket that sat on top of a buttoned up light blue shirt. Literally the only thing about the man that didn¡¯t seem perfect was the black rimmed glasses he wore. Even those I expected were merely for show.

    ¡°Good afternoon, Mr. Raymond. How are you doing this fine afternoon?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m alright. May I ask why I¡¯m here?¡±

    ¡°Straight to the point. I¡¯ll be honest, I appreciate that. You have no idea how tiring it is to exchange pleasantries all the time.¡±

    He walked over and grabbed a chair with one hand while pulling out a small item from his pocket in the other. He pressed a button on the back of the item and a light flipped on. It appeared to be a small flashlight.

    He pulled up next to me and shined the light in my eyes. The brightness caused me to involuntarily flinch and pull back. What was he doing?

    ¡°Try and look at my ear if you wouldn¡¯t mind,¡± he asked.

    I tried my best to look where I thought his ear would be, but the light made it impossible to see.

    He flipped sides, assaulting my other eye with his light. Why was I getting an eye exam? My eyes weren¡¯t the greatest, but this didn¡¯t seem the proper place for this. Something in the reflection of my eyes must have caught his attention. He turned to look toward the location of the large ghost man.

    ¡°Interesting.. Very interesting.¡±

    Shit, did he see the ghost through my reflection? No, that''d be crazy.

    ¡°Tell me Mr. Raymond, have you been seeing things lately?¡± He asked, pulling back the light and slipping it back into his pocket.

    ¡°No, nothing out of the ordinary,¡± I replied.

    I wasn¡¯t about to tell this monster my secret. I did notice the tone of the ghosts in the room had shifted. They still looked lost, but now there was a hint of fear in their faces that hadn¡¯t been there previously. They seemed terrified to be in the presence of the doctor. I couldn''t blame them, I was terrified too.

    Dr. Klanderman raised an eyebrow, ¡°Are you sure? The nurses have brought up some concerns about your behavior recently. So if you''re not seeing things, have you just been talking to yourself?¡±

    ¡°What no? I mean,¡± I stumbled. I had not been ready for that rebuttal.

    ¡°What do you mean? Please inform me.¡±

    I caught my eyes shift toward the large ghost man and back to the doctor. What do I say?

    Before I could react, he yelled out. ¡°Ok nurse, we¡¯re ready.¡±

    I turned just in time to see a needle go into my arm. She injected me with something. I knew she couldn¡¯t be trusted.

    This needle was different from the one the doctor used on Josiah. It was too short. Did needle size matter?

    ¡°What the hell!?¡± I yelled.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Mr. Raymond. This is all part of the process.¡±

    The orderly''s picked me up out of my chair and moved me over to the bed. I threw a punch at them. Wait, no I didn''t. My arms didn¡¯t move. Why didn¡¯t my arms move?

    ¡°Your mind might be racing right now. Don¡¯t worry, that¡¯s just a side effect of the drug we¡¯ve given you. It¡¯s mostly just sodium thiopental with a few other minor tranquilizer type drugs mixed in. It should be fully in your system in a few minutes.¡±

    He walked over and stood over my now restrained body. ¡°What are you doing?¡± I yelled.

    ¡°This is part of your treatment Mr. Raymond. It¡¯s something my family has used for generations. It allows us to unlock the hidden thoughts in your mind.¡±

    With that, the two men walked out of the room, closing the door behind them.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t ok, you can¡¯t do this!¡± I pleaded.

    ¡°Oh, but I absolutely can. You see, you¡¯ve shown some signs of schizophrenia. Don¡¯t worry, you won¡¯t remember any of this.¡±

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    The doctor chuckled, ¡°Do you have any idea what the street name of sodium thiopental is Mr. Raymond?¡±

    I remained silent. I wasn''t about to let this man have the satisfaction of knowing how much I feared him.

    ¡°Truth serum,¡± he replied. There was a hint of annoyance in his tone.

    He pulled out a small notebook and pen, then moved closer to me. ¡°Now, let''s see what¡¯s really going on in that head of yours.¡±

    My eyes went wide. Oh shit. Did he say truth serum? No, there was no way that stuff was actually real, Right?

    ###

    I blinked twice. I was looking up at the ceiling. Wait a minute, why was I looking up at the ceiling? It felt like I was lying on a bed. I looked down, expecting to see the bed they had assigned to me.

    Instead, I realized the floor was only a few inches below me. Ok, so not a bed, it was just a mattress on the floor. This clearly wasn¡¯t my room. It was way too small. Where was I? Maybe it was a nurse''s room. I must have fallen and hurt myself

    Slowly I forced myself to sit up. That small motion proved surprisingly challenging. The room was spinning. My head was killing me.

    With every ounce of effort I forced myself to sit vertically. I yawned. Wow, I don¡¯t remember ever being this tired before. All I wanted to do was take a nap.

    Had I jumped? This was nothing like my previous jumps. This one felt different, heavier. Oh man, I hope I didn¡¯t kill someone. After reading about Marcellus, I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that I did something horrible.

    I looked around. There was no one else in here with me and zero signs of a struggle. That was good. Ok, so if I didn¡¯t kill someone, what happened?

    This place felt familiar. It was a similar room to the one Josiah had. At least I thought it was. The last time I was in his room, it was while I was in the void, so it was hard to be sure. Details were easy to lose in that place.

    Unlike Josiah''s room, this one had only a single mattress on the floor and a chair in the corner. If I didn¡¯t know better, I would have sworn I had stumbled into a drug den.

    Ouch, there was something wrong with my arm. I reached my hand up to grab the spot that ached. There was something there. A small bump, just under the skin, like something had been injected. Or maybe I¡¯d been bitten by a spider. The room was full of cobwebs after-all. It seemed this specific room hadn¡¯t been used in some time.

    I didn¡¯t feel any spidey powers kicking in, so my money was on something worse. That was unfortunate. Ghost powers plus spidey powers would have been an awesome combo. I could fantasize about being spider ghost later. Right now, I had to focus on reality. Something bad happened to me. Maybe I was drugged?

    My eyes caught sight of my arm. Where the hell was my hoodie? I looked down. I was in blue scrubs. Oh shit, they made me an eloper. What the hell, why had they done that? I was supposed to get out of here tomorrow.

    Had they drugged me and changed my clothes? That couldn¡¯t be legal. Wasn¡¯t there a rule against that kind of thing? I tried to speak, just to make sure I could still form words.

    ¡°Basketball,¡± I muttered.

    Okay. That was a win. My voice still worked. That was a relief. Why did I say basketball? Whatever, it''s not important, I shouldn''t question the victory. I still needed to figure out what had happened. That''s all that matters. I had to know what they¡¯d done to me.

    ¡°Holy crap!¡± I shouted as a figure materialized beside me out of thin air. It was a ghost, just like Nicole. I wasn¡¯t sure I¡¯d ever get used to that.

    ¡°Don¡¯t sneak up on me like that!¡± I snapped, my voice sounding sharper than I intended.

    Wait, this guy looks familiar. At least I think he does. He was so tall, he should have been impossible to forget. Where had I seen him before? Was he famous? Why couldn''t I make the connection. Oh shoot, you''re staring. Stop staring at him.

    ¡°Can you hear me?¡± I asked, my voice cautious. For some reason this ghost looked different than all of the rest in this place. He looked to be aware of his condition, but I didn''t want to get my hopes up.

    He didn¡¯t answer, at least not with words. But I could feel it. There was a ghostly connection between us, like the one I had with Nicole. Finally, I found one that might be able to help me. He wanted me to follow him.

    Where did my wheelchair go? I wasn''t going anywhere without it.

    ¡°I can¡¯t follow you,¡± I said. ¡°They took my chair.¡±

    His facial expression shifted to a look of desperation. There was no chance he would let this go.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been stabbed,¡± I added, trying to reason with him. ¡°I can¡¯t stand up.¡±

    His hand stretched out toward my chest. The last time a ghost touched my chest, my body was possessed. Is that what he was trying to do?

    That didn¡¯t go so well the last time. Eh, fuck it. What did I have to lose? I had no leads. Who knew how much longer I had until they made me a mute.

    ¡°Ok, I¡¯m in,¡± I said. I had no idea if he needed my consent or not.

    With his hand, he reached down and touched my chest. I felt that spark, the same one as last time.

    Suddenly, like magic he was gone. I looked around, there was zero trace of the tall man anywhere in sight. He would have been a difficult one to hide.

    I tried to open my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. In fact, my mouth didn¡¯t move at all. This power was definitely not my favorite. Still, it must have some use. It almost worked when Nicole tried to stop her dad. I felt tears start to trickle down my eye at the thought of her.

    I guess I still controlled my sadness. That was something. I wanted to wipe the tears away, but my arm wouldn¡¯t move.

    At least his plan worked. He was possessing me, and all it took was for him to touch my chest. I sure hope he needed that consent to take over. I would hate it if any ghosts could just hijack my body as the wished.

    I had boundaries. Or at least I wanted boundaries. At this point, I¡¯m not sure what I had. I felt less and less like myself with each passing hour.

    He stood up, and to my surprise, I felt no pain. No sharp stab in my leg, no throbbing in my shoulder, and my headache was all but gone. I couldn¡¯t control my body, sure, but at least I was spared the agony for now. I had to celebrate the small victories and at this point, five minutes without pain was certainly a victory.

    There was so much cool shit I could do if I felt no pain. Maybe this power wasn¡¯t so worthless after all. I could turn myself into the next Evel Knievel. Old Joe was no daredevil, but maybe this new Joe could be. There were countless possibilities.

    The ghost took a step forward and groaned in agony as he put pressure down on my leg. Never mind, apparently, he wasn¡¯t immune to the injury after all. Based on what I was hearing as I walked, this was going to hurt like hell when I got control of my body again.

    When we reached the bathroom, he tripped, grabbing the sink to steady himself. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror¡ªand my eyes widened. Woah, I''m glowing. So I glow when I''m possessed? This made me look exactly like one of them. I''m not sure how I felt about that. At least I looked cool.

    He quickly turned away from the mirror and fumbled with the towel rack, pushing a button I hadn¡¯t noticed. A section of the wall slid open, revealing a hidden passage. That must be how Dr. Klanderman escaped. The ghost peered inside the passage, as if confirming something, and then, in a voice that was mine, but wasn¡¯t from me, he whispered, ¡°I¡¯m sorry, please save us from the monsters.¡±

    And just like that, he was back standing next to me. The connection severed. Oh shit, this was going to hurt. I dropped to the floor, biting down on my arm to keep from screaming. The pain rushed back in waves, my leg feeling like it had been shattered in multiple places. How had he walked on this for so long?

    He wouldn¡¯t have gone through all that pain if this wasn¡¯t important. I had to figure out why. Slowly, I dragged myself down the hallway.

    We stopped just in front of a door that looked different than all of the rest. I pulled myself up, gripping the handle to steady myself. This was it, this was what he wanted to show me. I pulled down on the handle and twisted, pulling the door back to reveal a room.

    The room was extremely dark. A small window let in just enough light between that shown in the cracks between furniture that I was able to find a light switch.

    I flipped it on. What the hell was this place?

    It looked like the room I was just in, but this one was full of junk. It was stacked from floor to ceiling. It was clear the room hadn¡¯t been cleaned in a long time based on all of the dust and grime buildup on the furniture. There were desks and beds that looked older than me.

    I turned to the ghost, leaning my arm on the door for support. ¡°This is what you wanted me to see? This was worth all of that pain and suffering? I don¡¯t get it!¡±

    He just stood there as if he was all out of clues to give. Well that was unhelpful. How was a storage room useful for me?

    I crawled over to one of the desks and opened up one of the drawers. To my surprise, they weren¡¯t empty. There were dozens of papers and journals in here.

    I picked one up and turned to look at the title. It was called ¡°The Effects of Sodium Thiopental in PTSD War Veterans.¡± What the hell was sodium thiopental? I put the book back and moved onto another drawer.

    This drawer was filled with the shit from the hospital. Blankets and pills with the hospital''s name on them. The blood was missing. I guess it probably needed to be stored cold. This room was pretty warm and stale. It also smelled like sour milk.

    Still, whoever stole from the hospital must have had some connection to this place. It had to have been Wyatt. Who else would have done it?

    I tried one more drawer, in it was a collection of needles and a notebook. They weren¡¯t like the needles Dr. Klanderman had used that night. It was hard to see in the void, but those were much larger needles. No these were different, but still for some reason oddly familiar. I had seen one of these before. But where?

    I pushed them aside and focused on the notebook. This looked familiar too. Like I had just seen it recently. I opened it up to the last page.

    Holy shit, this page was about me.

    <blockquote>

    Patient name: Joseph Raymond

    He knows about Wyatt. I always knew our involvement with that man¡¯s crazy plan was going to ruin everything good we had going.

    I have my suspicions of what he might truly be, but I was unable to obtain confirmation. It''s possible the patient doesn''t know what he is yet. If that''s the case, we should count ourselves lucky.

    Still, until today, I had assumed they were a thing of legend. Simply nightmares our families told as we grew up to keep us in check.

    If he is one of them, we need to be on high alert. I''ve alerted the leaders. We can''t afford to let him out. If we do, there is a good chance he will ruin everything.

    For now I¡¯m going to attempt a full brain dive and reorganization. I know there is a large risk, but it is a calculated one. It¡¯s the only way for Wyatt''s plan to succeed and for us to finally be free.

    Our only complication is that cop. She was with him when they brought him in. She must have a connection. We will need to deal with her. Then we will be able to eliminate the patient with less questioning.

    Post op note: Brain alteration appears to have been a success. I tried to get more from his memories, but unfortunately there seemed to be a block in his mind that I was unable to pass. I will do further observation soon.

    </blockquote>

    This page opened up so many more questions about my situation. Apparently he thinks I''m something dangerous. I wonder if he''s right. Marcellus had turned into a killer. Either way, if he''s scared of me, that''s good news. I also found out that these men report to someone. What had I stumbled onto?

    I reached up, there was a bump behind my ear. Did they really go into my brain? That''s not ok.

    In front of me, a smaller spirit appeared. He looked familiar. Wait, was he in the room with us when they did this? I vaguely remembered a second ghost. He looked exhausted, like he had just run a marathon. I felt his warmth and then I knew.

    The doctor was doing something to me, something I wasn¡¯t supposed to come back from.

    I put the book down and turned toward the taller ghost. ¡°Your friend¡­ you both saw what they were doing to me. That¡¯s what made you remember, wasn''t it. He did this to you too."

    I then turned to the smaller ghost, "And you saved me. Didn''t you. When they tried to mess with my head? That''s why he couldn''t get any more information out of me. You were guarding my secret.¡±

    The tall man didn¡¯t nod. He didn¡¯t have to. I knew his friend had saved me. Protected me.

    "Thank you," I finally said. I couldn¡¯t let them down. I had to free them. I had to free all of them.

    Dr. Klanderman and his eager nurse thought they¡¯d won. They thought I was a shell now. What they didn¡¯t realize was that I was still here, and that was the edge I needed.

    I looked back at the tall ghost. "I''m not sure if you can, or if it''s even possible, but I need you to try and get all of the other ghosts to remember. I''m going to need them."

    With that, I gave him a nod, then dragged myself back to the bed. It was time to see if my acting skills were as good as I hoped. I needed them to believe they¡¯d won.

    I needed to play the part, because if they believed that? I¡¯d get my chance. Unfortunately, I had to act soon before the person in his notes took out Naomi.

 16. Stick a Fork in Her!

    I would love to say I was born to act. Unfortunately, the only acting credit to my name was back in eighth grade when I spontaneously joined the drama club for their production of Grease.

    Now, I didn¡¯t join because I actually wanted to perform on stage in front of hundreds of parents. That part actually terrified me. I joined because of a girl. Specifically, a girl named Roslyn, who was auditioning for the part of Rizzo.

    She said it would be fun to spend more time together. I had no other real hobbies, so acting seemed as good as any. Plus, how hard could it be? At the time, It seemed like a foolproof plan.

    Naturally, in my infinite wisdom, I decided to audition for Kenickie, Rizzo¡¯s love interest. I heard there was a scene where the two got to kiss. On stage or not, that wasn¡¯t a chance I was going to pass up.

    Of course, what I didn¡¯t realize was that acting requires a certain amount of talent, of which I had little to none. The drama teacher politely let me know the role was not the right fit for me. In fact, he suggested I skip singing altogether. It was a harsh but fair critique. Roslyn landed the role of Rizzo, and I got stuck as background actor number five.

    As it turned out, Roslyn was never into Kenickie. Or boys, for that matter. Soon after the play was over, she ended up dating the girl who played Frenchie. I probably should have caught on when she kept talking about how cute Frenchie looked or the one time I saw them kissing backstage, but situational awareness was never my strong suit.

    For a long time, I chalked that experience up to wasted time. Two months of rehearsals, four days a week, all for one forgettable line in a play.

    But now, here I was, grateful for that bit part, because I¡¯d need every bit of know-how I picked up to pull off my new role as mute eloper number twenty-nine-ish.

    Heck, with no lines and no singing, I might actually have a shot at pulling this off.

    As the drama teacher always used to say to me, the less someone notices your character, the better. Stay in the back and stay quiet. Thinking about it now, he was a really bad teacher, but this time, I planned to actually listen to that advice.

    The asshole nurse who put me in these scrubs, I think her name was actually Stephanie, eventually came to get me. By the time she wheeled me to join the others, It was dark outside. I had clearly missed dinner, on top of my meeting with Courtney and Aubry. I hoped once the girls saw my condition they would understand it wasn¡¯t intentional.

    Actually, you know what? Fuck Stephanie! She didn¡¯t deserve for me to use her real name. No, she was just Asshole to me from here on out.

    Asshole parked me in the back row of the rec room near the other elopers. The lights in the room were turned off except for a single row in the very back, so patients could easily see the screen. That put me in prime eavesdropping territory.

    The movie playing tonight was Mrs. Doubtfire. Robin Williams was fully disguised as an old grandmother figure, pretending to be something he wasn¡¯t and trying to fool those around him.

    I didn''t have to wear a full body suit, thank God, but the movie felt almost too on point with my situation.

    I¡¯d seen this movie a hundred times as a kid. I watched it over and over again until the VHS tape literally fell apart.

    Tonight, though, I couldn¡¯t afford to watch. I needed to listen for clues. Aubry had mentioned that the nurses talked like we weren¡¯t even there. Maybe they¡¯d let something slip.

    The room was divided with regular patients in the front rows, and elopers like me in the back. Asshole had joined the cluster of nurses gossiping at a table in the far corner. I focused on their voices.

    ¡°What happened to the new kid?¡± one of them asked. She was an older woman with an old-school eighties perm.

    Asshole replied, ¡°Doc thinks it¡¯s PTSD. We tried interviewing him, and he just snapped. He¡¯s been like this for hours. We were hoping being around others might snap him out of it.¡±

    The perm nurse scoffed. ¡°Kids today are soft. You know what he needs? A nice firm paddling!¡±

    Another nurse who was younger, chimed in. ¡°No, Janice, you¡¯re not beating the patients. Seriously, how do you still have a job?¡±

    Janice, who was apparently the perm nurse replied. ¡°I¡¯m just saying, when I was your age, we used to beat the weirdness out of them. Now we coddle them.¡±

    The younger nurse wasn¡¯t having it. ¡°When you were my age, they put women in here because their husbands said they were hysterical. Not everything back then was better.¡±

    I liked this nurse. She wasn¡¯t like Asshole or Dr. Klanderman. Still, without some sort of proof, I had to assume she was as bad as the rest. That was a real shame, It would have been great to have some insider help.

    The conversation had shifted to one about who was sleeping with the doctor. Apparently it was Asshole.

    That surprised me. She was so old and wrinkly and he was so... not. I felt my stomach churn. The thought of those two together made me want to vomit.

    Courtney had slipped into view, crouching low in front of my wheelchair. She was so quiet that I had almost missed her sneaking up on me. How the hell was she so good at that?

    ¡°Hey new guy, are you still in there?¡± she whispered, eyes wide with concern.

    I managed a whisper back. ¡°I¡¯m here.¡±

    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    For most people, talking without moving your lips was hard. Not for me. I spent years as a kid practicing ventriloquism with a dummy named Slappy, who was a character from the Goosebumps books. Hmm, I guess I did have a hobby outside of acting. Maybe it''s best that I kept that hobby to myself.

    She let out a sigh of relief. ¡°Oh thank God, What¡¯s going on? Why are you in scrubs?¡± she asked, voice low.

    ¡°I¡¯m undercover,¡± I replied, keeping my lips still.

    Her expression softened. ¡°Did he do something to you?¡±

    ¡°Yes. You should stay safe. Stay away.¡±

    ¡°We want to help, Aubry and I. For Sharon.¡±

    I did say that I needed their help. Unfortunately, my original plan was no longer possible. So what could I have them do? I had to think fast.

    Oh, my laptop! Maybe it was still under my sheets. Hopefully the cleaning staff hadn¡¯t found it yet. If they hadn¡¯t, maybe one of the girls could get it and keep it hidden until it teleported back to me. It was worth a shot.

    I really didn¡¯t want the staff to get their hands on it. Especially not Dr. Klanderman or Asshole.

    ¡°There¡¯s something in my sheets. It¡¯s hidden,¡± I said, carefully choosing words that didn¡¯t involve tricky letters like B or P.

    ¡°What is it?¡± she asked, frowning.

    Before I could come up with a word for laptop that I could throw with my voice, a commotion erupted in the room.

    Someone had stood up, blocking the television for those in the back. Was that Josiah?

    He stood up, walking straight toward the back of the room. That was definitely him. Where the heck was he going?

    ¡°Sit down, Josiah! Don¡¯t ruin movie night for everyone,¡± one of the nurses yelled.

    Josiah continued moving, ignoring the nurses demand. In fact, he was speeding up.

    Courtney whispered, ¡°He¡¯s got something in his hand. It looks like a weapon.¡±

    I hadn¡¯t noticed it, but as I turned to look, chaos unfolded. A woman screamed, followed by a loud thud as someone collapsed to the floor.

    Who was that screaming?

    The crowd rushed forward suddenly forming a circle. There were patients crying. Some were cheering. It was pure chaos. Damn this wheelchair. It made it impossible to see in moments like this.

    ¡°Who got hit?¡± I asked. I was hopeful Courtney had a better view now that she was standing.

    Courtney hesitated. ¡°I think it was one of the nurses.¡±

    The shouting grew louder, Josiah¡¯s voice rising above it all, chanting, ¡°Looks like a duck! It probably is a duck!¡±

    Well that was an odd chant. What the hell did that even mean? I was positive there were no ducks in the room.

    I glanced at Courtney. ¡°Wheel me closer. I need to see.¡±

    She didn¡¯t ask questions. Instead, she rolled me closer, just in time to catch the aftermath. There was a nurse lying on the floor with a fork in her neck. Holy crap, It was Asshole! The old nurse had apparently lost her wig in the struggle, revealing a bald, wrinkled scalp.

    But something else was wrong. Her skin, it wasn''t right. Parts of it were just missing for lack of a better term. It looked like one of those images you would find on one of those shock sites, but in real life. There was no blood, just peeled off, decaying flesh. Nothing could have prepared me for that.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with her face?¡± I muttered, my stomach churning.

    Courtney looked at me, confused. ¡°Her neck, you mean?¡±

    No. It wasn¡¯t her neck. It was her face. How the hell had she missed it?

    ¡°No I mean her¡­¡± Before I was able to finish my thought, her skin quickly rippled like water, and suddenly it was back to normal. It was like it had never happened.

    Oh hell, I was going crazy! Maybe the drugs were still messing with me, or maybe there was something far worse happening in this hospital than I realized.

    Something about this whole thing wasn''t right. Of all of the nurses, Josiah picked the one that assisted the doctor in trying to torture me. To manipulate my brain. Now she''s on the floor, and possibly a zombie? That didn''t feel like a simple coincidence. I was missing something.

    Also, I wasn''t a doctor, but shouldn''t there be a lot more blood? It was dark, but she didn''t look to be bleeding at all. No, something wasn''t normal with this woman.

    Right now I needed that laptop and I needed Naomi. I turned to Courtney. ¡°Listen closely. There¡¯s a laptop in my old room. Find it. Get it to my new room, or hide it. I can¡¯t explain, but it¡¯ll make its way to me regardless.¡±

    Courtney nodded, her expression serious. ¡°Got it.¡±

    ¡°Also, tomorrow, when you¡¯re doing your visitation with your social worker. I need you to have her reach out to a detective Naomi Johnson of the Ravenwood Police Department. Don¡¯t let her say no. You need to do whatever it takes to make her listen. Tell her you need to talk to her about a boy and to look up Sodium thiopental before she gets here."

    I pointed to a spot on my arm that still contained a red bump, "That¡¯s what they tried to inject me with. Luckily it failed. Again, you can¡¯t take no for an answer. Nod if you understand me.¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s Naomi?¡± she asked, looking confused.

    ¡°No time. Just promise me.¡±

    She nodded. ¡°I promise.¡±

    A few orderlies finally came and restrained Josiah, taking him away to a secluded section of the hospital most of us had only heard rumors about. Meanwhile, a doctor attempted to treat Asshole, who outside of the fork in her neck seemed relatively unscathed.

    It appeared movie night was officially over, and we were sent back to our rooms. The young nurse wheeled me back to my new solo room.

    The two ghosts who had helped me earlier in the day were in the room with me. They were joined by two others who also appeared to look aware of their surroundings.

    Whatever they were doing, it was slowly working. Hopefully soon, all of the ghosts would be clear of whatever haze they were in.

    Josiah''s chant was in my head like an itch I couldn''t scratch. I had heard those words before. I think it was from a movie or show. Damnit, I couldn''t remember. Maybe someone else would know. If only I had a chance to ask Corey.

    I thought back to the comment Alex had made in his original video:

    <blockquote>

    Quickly, the silent eyes that watched over me as I slept multiplied. From what I¡¯ve gathered, the dead don¡¯t sleep at night. Instead they seem to watch almost enviously as I do.

    The more of them that showed up, the less I found myself able to sleep. There¡¯s something about a crowd of people that watch you sleep that leaves you uneasy, even if they aren¡¯t really there. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll experience that soon enough.

    </blockquote>

    With four pairs of eyes in the room as I tried to sleep, combined with the fear of Dr. Klanderman sneaking in from the bathroom, I feared Alex¡¯s prediction was about to come true. It was about to be a rough night for me.

 17. Project Strigon

    If there were infinite universes, with infinite versions of me, how did I end up in the one where I¡¯m stuck buying used laptops from Craigslist?

    I mean, come on, of all the possibilities, I couldn¡¯t have landed in one where I grew up rich? Or at least rich enough to afford a new curse free laptop from Best Buy. At the very least, was it too much to ask to sleep in a room by myself, without Larry, Curly, Moe, and Shemp watching over me?

    I cracked an eye open, hopeful they had decided to leave me alone for the night.

    They were still there. Of course they hadn''t left. If anything, they were even closer now.

    If I had known that ¡°Dude, you¡¯re getting a Dell¡± really meant ¡°Dude, you¡¯re going to have creepy ghosts staring at you every time you try to sleep,¡± I would¡¯ve gone with the HP. Talk about false advertising. Yeah, it would have taken me another paycheck, but it would have been worth it.

    I sprawled out on my floor mattress, face-up, surrounded by my four new companions. They all had desperate looks in their eyes.

    I recognized those eyes. In fact, I''ve had those eyes before. They were the eyes of someone longing for sleep. Years ago, when Halo first came out, I ¡°slept¡± over at Murphs house and we played all ten levels from start to finish.

    We basically played non-stop from seven that night until seven in the morning. By the time we were finished, my eyes were worn out and droopy. They were practically begging to be shut. I was so exhausted, and that had only been a single night.

    Some of these guys hadn¡¯t seen a wink of sleep in over twenty years. While I had no idea what that translated to in ghost years, it still sounded horrible. Especially now that I had broken them of whatever spell they were under. Now that I thought about it, this was partially my fault.

    Still, I liked my sleep, and I turned into a real jerk when I didn''t get enough of it. Between yesterday¡¯s void walk, which zapped a ton of my energy, and the haunted sleepover I was currently hosting, I was on the verge of losing it.

    ¡°Do you guys mind? Could you maybe watch from over there?¡± I pointed toward the far side of the room, hoping they¡¯d take the hint.

    Nothing. If anything, they had moved even closer.

    ¡°You''re all lucky that ghost don''t make smells, because from this distance, It would be easy to tell what you all ate for lunch when you died.¡±

    My body shivered. Damn, it''s cold in here. It seemed the more ghosts there were, the colder the room got. This sorry excuse for a blanket that they supplied me wasn''t going to cut it.

    I sighed. ¡°Seriously, this is my personal space. I can¡¯t help you if I can¡¯t sleep. How about you migrate somewhere else?¡± I was more forceful this time.

    Migrate. The word echoed in my head as Josiah¡¯s chant popped back into my memory. ¡°Looks like a duck! Probably a duck!¡±

    I believe the full chant was ¡°If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it¡¯s probably a duck.¡± That had to be what he was trying to say.

    My uncle used to say that phrase all the time when I was a kid. He loved throwing it out whenever I asked a question about an animal I didn¡¯t recognize. But that was never helpful. In fact, for the longest time, I thought any animal with wings was some kind of duck. It made games of duck, duck, goose pretty confusing.

    But why had Josiah said it? Was he trying to tell me something? I was like ninety-five percent sure that the woman I saw wasn¡¯t a duck. But with the way my week was going, I couldn¡¯t rule anything out.

    Okay, assuming she wasn¡¯t a duck for now, what was Josiah trying to say? Maybe it was simply about if she looked off, she probably was. Perhaps he had seen the face too. If that¡¯s the case, it was time to think outside the box.

    If she wasn¡¯t a duck, she had to be something else. And that face... that rotting, distorted face wasn¡¯t natural. I¡¯ve seen a lot of gross faces online. There were plenty of disgusting shock sites out there, but I''ve never seen anything like that.

    Come on Joe, think. What could cause a messed up face like that?

    You know, I played dungeons and dragons once with a group of friends. In the game we had to deal with warlocks and wizards. I was overwhelmed early on and made a barbarian who fell asleep whenever they had a single sip of alcohol.

    Needless to say I was asleep for a majority of the campaign and didn¡¯t focus as much as I probably should have. But I did remember them having spells that could change their appearance.

    In ¡°Monty Python and the Holy Grail¡± they used the duck test to prove a woman was a witch, so that¡¯s something, right? Were wizards and warlocks the same as witches? They had to be similar.

    I wish James was here. He was our dungeon master. I¡¯m sure he¡¯d know. Anyway, if not a witch or warlock or whatever it was, what else could she be?

    Maybe she was some kind of AI¡ªlike a rogue program with a glitchy face? That could explain the weirdness, but why was I the only one seeing her?

    She did look almost zombie-like. Ew, let''s not go to zombies. At least not until I had no other option. I had recently seen ¡°28 Days Later¡± and I wanted no part of that world.

    I noticed the ghosts expressions had changed. They were now staring at me as if I was crazy. I looked around the room, remembering where I currently was. Ok, perhaps that was a fair assumption. Oh wait, maybe they could help.

    ¡°What do you guys think?¡± I asked. ¡°Is the nurse human or something else?¡±

    I waited for an answer that never came. Of course they didn¡¯t respond. They just hovered there.

    ¡°Ok. That¡¯s super helpful. Thanks guys. For now, I¡¯m going to assume she¡¯s a witch. It fit her personality nicely. Plus at the very least, she¡¯s definitely an old hag.¡±

    I swore one of the ghosts appeared to chuckle. I knew they could hear me. It was annoying that they only helped when it suited them. However, I remembered what Nicole did to me when I upset her. I better not push it.

    Alright, I wasn¡¯t getting any sleep tonight. Unfortunately, as far as I know, sleep was the only way I was able to void walk.

    To be honest, I wasn¡¯t sure I wanted to deal with the exhaustion that came along with it again. It was hard enough pretending to be mute without having felt like I ran a marathon.

    The next best thing I could do was explore. There was still that hidden room. It was calling to me. And lucky for me, they hadn¡¯t taken my wheelchair this time.

    It was risky, sure, but sitting here for another eight hours with these guys standing over me was not an option.

    I hoisted myself up into the chair, the wheels squeaking against the tile floor. The ghosts shuffled off to the side, giving me some room.

    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Oh, now you move. How considerate,¡± I muttered as I wheeled myself toward the bathroom door, where the entrance to the storage room waited.

    ¡°All right, here goes nothing. You guys coming? Or are you just gonna stand there?¡±

    Without waiting for a response, I rolled to the bathroom, hoping I would be able to get some answers.

    ###

    I had spent what felt like ten minutes so far trying to open this damn secret door. I guess there were no clocks, so I couldn¡¯t know for sure.

    Either way, this was ridiculous. Come on, I had literally just opened the door earlier today. Well, I guess technically it wasn¡¯t actually me, only my body, but still. I guess that wasn¡¯t helpful.

    Luckily years of geocaching had prepared me for moments exactly like this. I tried to pretend I was finding a small cache. My fingers searched every square inch of that wall.

    ¡°Come on, it¡¯s gotta be here somewhere,¡± I muttered. I looked over to the ghost who opened it the first time.

    ¡°Would you mind helping?¡± I asked, already knowing the answer.

    Finally, my fingers brushed something tiny. It was a button that was smaller than a toothpick. The door slowly creaked open.

    A wave of relief washed over me. ¡°Thanks for nothing,¡± I said, visibly frustrated.

    I rolled into the hallway, finally taking a moment to study the area. I¡¯m no architect, but this didn¡¯t seem like an add-on. I¡¯m pretty sure this place was installed here for the sole purpose of controlling the patients. It seemed likely that this wasn¡¯t the only hallway in this building containing secret rooms like this.

    I leaned my ear up to the storage room door, listening. It sounded empty. Taking a breath, I eased the handle down and wheeled myself into the small room, closing the door behind me. I had no idea how long I had, but it felt like the clock was ticking.

    Across the room, I spotted the desk. I wheeled over and opened the drawers. Everything was still there. Hold on, something wasn¡¯t quite right. The container of needles used to have five vials.

    One. Two. Three. Two of the vials were missing. Where had they gone? He must have used them on someone. The thought sent chills down my back.

    My hand went to the spot where that needle had gone in. One of the ghosts reached over and brushed my arm. I felt a sudden wave of warmth wash over me, just like with Nicole and Terry''s sister. I won''t lie, I had begun to love that feeling. It was strangely comforting.

    ¡°This happened to you, too,¡± I whispered. Not only them. Dr. Klanderman had most likely done this to all of the patients.

    One of the four ghosts appeared beside him. He was a stocky man with a black beard. He pointed behind his ear. My memory flickered back to that night with Dr. Klanderman in Josiah¡¯s room.

    He had climbed on Josiah. There was a needle in his hand. A needle that was much larger than the one in the container. He didn¡¯t slip that one into the arm. He slipped it behind his ear.

    It was hard to see in the void, but I clearly remember the injection. That and the look on poor Josiah''s face as the needle went in.

    Another chill crawled up my spine. I reached up to feel behind my own ear, half-hoping to find smooth skin. But there it was, a small bump.

    ¡°What¡­what had he done to me?¡± My voice was small, strangled even, but the ghosts had nothing else to offer.

    They stood there like statues. It was as if they weren¡¯t allowed to help more than necessary. That fucking sucked. Why the hell couldn¡¯t I remember any of this?

    ¡°Come on, don¡¯t go cryptic on me now!¡± I pleaded. I was growing desperate for the answer to all of this.

    Still nothing. Fine, I needed answers, and maybe the book had them.

    I flipped open to the first entry. It was labeled June 1st, 1948. That was right around when Cottonwood opened. This felt like peering back into history.

    <blockquote>

    ¡°Patient Name: Isaac Weirtz

    Age: 34

    Family: None listed.

    Blood Type: O+

    Patient admitted with traumatic brain injury-induced psychosis.

    Perfect candidate for our new program.

    The Strigon program is officially ready to commence. We are limited to universal donors for now. Luckily, patient is a match.

    Sometimes I wonder if peace is truly worth this.

    ¡ª R.K.¡±

    </blockquote>

    R.K. Those must be the initials of Robert Klanderman. He was the man that started cottonwood.

    When Josiah saw me looking at his photo on the wall, that must have triggered something in him. But what the hell was that last line about peace? There was nothing peaceful about what they were doing here.

    Flipping through the pages, I found only one follow-up note:

    <blockquote>

    ¡°Patient Name: Isaac Weirtz

    Follow-up procedure successful. Brain alteration complete. No further resistance. Assuming this works, we can proceed with the other candidates.

    ¡ª R.K.¡±

    </blockquote>

    Brain alteration. That was what they had said in my notes. So it wasn¡¯t simply the truth serum. Whatever it was they did behind my ear, it was to try and mess with my head. Those sick bastards.

    A loud, sudden buzz ripped through the room. I froze. What the hell was that?

    I looked around, heart hammering. There was a phone, somewhere in one of the unopened drawers.

    On my third try, I found it. I picked up the Razor branded phone, holding it in my hand. I flipped open the screen displaying a single locked message:

    <blockquote>

    Wyatt: I¡¯m almost there. You¡¯re sure the procedure worked? I want to confirm it¡¯s the same boy.

    </blockquote>

    No. It had to be someone else! There was no way that was the same Wyatt. I mean I had seen his mutilated corpse. Even smelt the rotten decayed flesh. That was something I would never forget.

    There was no way he was coming back from that. Not unless they had a way to regrow internal organs from scratch.

    I looked around. Something was wrong. The ghosts were gone. Where the hell had they gone?

    ¡°Hey guys, this isn''t funny,¡± I whispered, my voice heavy with worry.

    There was no reply. I heard a thin, joyful whistle from the hallway, someone coming closer. Too close.

    I closed the phone and shoved both it and the book back into their drawers. I shut it as quietly as I could, heart pounding in my throat.

    What the hell do I do now? There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Do I try to fight? That wouldn¡¯t get me far. I was still locked in this place. I was quickly running out of options.

    I grabbed one of the needles and held it tight as the footsteps closed in. I heard him whistling just outside the door.

    This was it. There was no turning back. Why had I decided to go spying? It had to be Dr. Klanderman. I could hear the sick twisted sound of his voice as he whistled some tune I hadn¡¯t recognized.

    There was a smash from somewhere. Not a smash. An explosion? I jumped, holding back a gasp.

    Whatever it was, it was loud. I heard the whistling stop. The door knob stopped turning. Apparently, he had heard it too.

    I leaned my ear to the door, hearing footsteps carry off down the hallway.

    Did the ghosts do something? Could they even do something? I have no idea how they would have made a noise that loud.

    All I know is that I had dodged a bullet. Now I just had to make it back to my room without being caught.

 18. A Brotheréˆ¥æªš Burden

    I had made it back unnoticed. Unfortunately, my heart hadn¡¯t gotten the memo. It was trying its best to shoot out of my chest, but luckily for me, it was failing. I bent over, doing my best to catch my breath. I was good at many things, but absolutely zero of those things involved running.

    Although, I don''t think what I just did technically counted as running. Wheeling? Gliding? Rolling? Whatever it was, it still left me breathless as I fumbled my way out of the chair and dropped down onto the floor mattress.

    "Guys, I''m sorry I tried to send you away. You can come back now," I called out.

    I know I had been wishing for peace and quiet, but now that the ghosts were gone, I had to admit that I kind of missed them. I was even a little worried about them.

    My body shivered. There was definitely something else off about this room besides the missing ghosts. It was cold. Way colder than before I''d left.

    The low for the week was supposed to be in like the mid 70''s. I reached up toward the vent, but there was no air blowing. That was odd. So if there was no natural reason for this cold, that meant something else was happening. This felt like Ravenwood medical all over again.

    Oh shit, was that when the vengeful spirits had shown up? Come to think of it, the ghosts were missing from that hospital too. So, maybe it wasn''t the hospitals fault it was so cold. I should probably take that one star review down. Also, I probably owed that nurse an apology, but lets be honest, she kind of deserved it for her attitude.

    It probably wasn''t doing me any good to worry. The ghosts were already dead.

    "I hope you''re all safe. If you helped me get out of there, thank you," I whispered.

    I''m sure it was all a coincidence. I tried to get comfortable. I was hopeful that once I was I would be able to get my mind off things, but as I fumbled around, my foot hit something hard and plastic. I reached down and grabbed the object. It was both rectangular shaped and fairly heavy.

    There it was, my laptop had found its way back to me. Finally, something had gone right! I scooped it up and flipped it open, pressing the power button. The battery was still at one hundred percent. I wondered if it ever drained. This laptop might be haunted, but it was hands-down the coolest part of this power.

    I pulled up the readme file and typed in ¡°monster¡± into the search box. Two hundred and forty-seven results popped up. Wow, that was more than I had anticipated. I scrolled through the list while keeping an eye and ear on the door. The doctor could walk in any moment, so I had to be ready to react.

    Alright, lets see here, almost all of the references were from before the 1950s. That''s interesting, that was around the time this place first opened. There was something off about that fact. I mean, did monsters just stop existing? That seemed extremely unlikely.

    However, none of the recent entries seemed to mention anything about real monsters. So something must have happened, right around the time this place opened its doors. I had no idea what that something was, but I hoped to find out.

    Let''s see, was there anything that talked about monsters unironically? All of the new stuff seemed to be the owners just calling themselves monsters. That was concerning, but not really helpful.

    I kept scrolling. Here was something, it was written by a person named William Walker. I chuckled. That sounded like a marvel comic book character name with the double W''s. His first passage was from a time just after the Japanese had bombed pearl harbor. It felt like I was peering into a piece of history.

    I moved to the passage and began to read.

    <blockquote>

    ¡°One number. That number was two hundred and forty-five. It was a number I shall never forget. That was the number drawn on February 13th, 1943. That was the day my oldest brother got drafted to war. It was also the last time my family would ever see him.

    With each letter he sent home, his mind seemed more lost. We all thought he was slowly going insane. But now, it all makes sense.

    The family, myself included, had pushed him away after he was dishonorably discharged. Where I come from, there was no greater shame than letting your country down. My family had no choice but to abandon him.

    A week ago, they found his body in an alley next to a homeless shelter. it was too late to tell him that I loved him.

    Out of all ten siblings, I was the unlucky one chosen to go through his supplies. In it was this book. If you''re reading this, you of all people should understand what happened next.

    I shall do my best to make up for failing him.

    - William Walker, May 19th, 1944¡±

    </blockquote>

    So he was not a soldier, but his brother was. As the oldest in my family, and someone with this power, I felt for the older brother. I couldn''t imagine my family ever disowning me like that, but I guess it was a different time. Either way, it was sad that not one of the ten siblings kept in touch.

    The guy in the book before him was named Percy Walker. That must have been his brother. Percy had written about getting the book from a soldier in his unit who had lost his life.  That was horrifying to think about!

    Sure, a mental hospital was not the most ideal place to be with this power, but that was nothing compared to a battleground. I couldn¡¯t imagine having this ability while people around me were brutally dying. There must have been so many ghosts out there.

    Unfortunately, I didn¡¯t have the time to read up on his story. Instead, I pulled up Williams'' first passage that mentioned monsters. This looked to be exactly what I was looking for.

    <blockquote>

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe I am writing this down. No, I promise I¡¯m not crazy. But tonight, I saw a monster.

    I was six whiskeys deep at some dive outside town, drowning out the ghosts. I had discovered that alcohol weakens our connection to the other world. A fact I had frankly abused over the last few weeks.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    The owner of the bar kicked me out, and I found myself slumbering among a bed of trash.

    That was when I saw her, a woman alone, moving with a strange kind of confidence. It was dangerous for a woman to be out at night without a man, especially on this side of town.

    When I focused closer, I realized she wasn''t actually alone. She was surrounded by these things I couldn''t comprehend.

    I soon learned why she wore such a confident smile. A man stumbled out of the bar. She walked up to him and kissed him. I figured she was simply a lady of the night. That would have explained the confidence.

    But then he stood there frozen. That was when something about her changed. Her face rippled into a hideous spider-human hybrid. She tore out his heart, leaving his dead body on the ground, and then strolled off like it was just another night.

    Apparently I wasn''t the first person in the book to write about a monster like her. The previous owner called them black widows. That seemed fitting. I¡¯d barely accepted that ghosts were real, but monsters like this? I don¡¯t know if I can handle that knowledge.

    - William Walker, June 3rd 1944¡±

    </blockquote>

    ¡°Monsters were real,¡± I whispered, just to hear the words out loud. I had already started to suspect that fact after seeing the Assholes face, but to see someone else write it down made it really hit home.

    Fuck this! I was hoping this was going to be some ¡°Dead like me¡± ghost helping gig. That was something I had learned to deal with. I hadn¡¯t signed up for this shit. Plus, why was I the first person with this gift to deal with monsters in over forty years? That was shit luck.

    I agreed with William on his last sentence. I too wasn''t sure if this was something I could handle. But unlike him, I was in too deep now. I had no choice but to keep pushing forward. Hopefully this would be my only encounter.

    Ok, so this spider woman didn¡¯t sound like whatever nurse Asshole was. She was more in the rotted flesh category of monsters. I searched for similar terms, but the book returned no results.

    Alright then, Williams story it was. Maybe there was a clue in here that could help me. I read on, trying to make sense of it all.

    <blockquote>

    ¡°News had spread around town about a trucker that had gone missing. He was the third one that week. All three had found their way to me. They all had missing spots where their hearts should be. It was terrifying. Unfortunately, they won¡¯t leave until I help solve their murders.

    I went to the library and read stories on spiders, plus whatever I found in this book.

    One thing constantly mentioned in here was that all monsters had a weakness. The key was to find that weakness and exploit it. That sounded simple enough.

    That¡¯s when I came up with a plan. Where I grew up, if you wanted to kill a spider, you sprayed it with vinegar. If this woman was really some black widow / human hybrid, maybe vinegar would work on her as well.

    There were tons of these scary spirit looking things around town that seemed drawn to a singular spot. Thanks to them, it made it easy enough to track her down.

    She was at a new bar, waiting for some drunk prey to stumble out to their doom. Tonight, that someone was me. She approached, reached up to kiss me, then panicked and whirled in pain as the vinegar around my lips burned hers.

    I pulled out a bottle and sprayed her. She collapsed to the floor, her face rippled into that terrible spider form. She slowly writhed in pain, until it just suddenly stopped. Her face transformed back to human, and that was the end of the black widow.

    It was also my first kill. The men she had taken prior disappeared. I felt no sadness for what I had done. I helped those spirits move on.

    - William Walker, June 11th, 1944

    </blockquote>

    Turns out William had a way with problem-solving. He¡¯d gone back to the bar to face her, armed with vinegar. So the moral of the story was that all monsters do have a weakness. Now I had to figure out what nurse Assholes was. I doubt it was vinegar.

    A noise outside caught my attention. I slammed the laptop closed and slid it under the mattress. My heart pounded again. I stretched out, trying to look like any other eloper.

    Just as I settled, the door creaked open. Dr. Klanderman¡¯s voice was there, along with someone else¡¯s. It sounded like a woman¡¯s voice. But she didn¡¯t sound like any staff I knew.

    I forced myself to stare at the wall ahead as the woman approached. ¡°Is this him?¡± she asked. Her voice was oddly stern.

    ¡°This is him. We¡¯re pretty sure he¡¯s one of them. I ¡­ I did good, didn¡¯t I, Wyatt?¡± Dr. Klanderman stammered.

    I felt a prickle of dread. Wyatt? What the hell? Was this the same Wyatt? It couldn''t be. All I knew for sure was that she terrified Dr. Klanderman. That wasn''t good news for me.

    She leaned in closer, studying me. I held as still as possible, doing my best imitation of the other elopers. Her eyes lingered for a long, uncomfortable moment.

    Holy crap, she had two vengeful spirits next to her. She must be related to whatever Wyatt, or the man I thought was Wyatt, was up to. Maybe their partners.

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen him before,¡± she said.

    Dr. Klanderman flinched. ¡°You¡­ you have?¡±

    I froze. I had never seen this woman in my life. She must have me confused with someone. Before I could blink, she¡¯d grabbed Dr. Klanderman, slamming him against the wall. I glanced in their direction, careful to not move too quickly.

    ¡°Is this some kind of joke? A trap?¡±

    Her face was inches from his now, and in her hand was what appeared to be a silver blade that was pressed to his throat. I watched in horror as Dr. Klanderman¡¯s face rippled, revealing a decayed, twisted version of himself. It looked exactly like nurse Assholes face did during movie night. Luckily I had seen hers earlier in the evening, or my cover would have been blown.

    ¡°Tell me, Matthew,¡± she snarled, ¡°why was this boy at my safe house the other day? Who have you told?¡±

    ¡°N-no one! I swear! I would never betray you, Wyatt.¡± He was shaking, looking like he¡¯d break any second.

    She pushed the blade harder, but no blood trickled out. Still, he screamed in pain as the blade touched his neck.

    She released him, smoothing her jacket as he slumped to the floor. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Matthew. Maintaining these personas gets¡­ difficult. Sometimes it makes me a bit paranoid¡± She stepped away, and Dr. Klanderman scrambled to his feet, wiping at his neck.

    ¡°I swear on my life, no one at Cottonwood has said anything,¡± he panted, eyes wide with fear.

    She turned, her gaze landing back on me. I felt my pulse quicken as she leaned over. ¡°I believe you, Matthew. But somehow this one and his friend knew where I was. That¡¯s a problem for me. For all of us.¡±

    She walked over and studied me with chilling, calculated eyes. They were eyes that looked eerily familiar, with her pupils almost overtaking her eyeballs. They looked almost identical to the little girls eyes I had seen running out of that warehouse. Maybe they were on the same drugs.

    ¡°Luckily, it looks like he¡¯s already taken care of, ¡± she said, turning back to face the doctor,

    ¡°I can confirm,¡± Dr. Klanderman said quickly. ¡°We¡¯ve completely modified him. He won''t be a problem for you anymore.¡±

    ¡°Great job,¡± she said, straightening. ¡°Once we pull this off, your kind will be able to feed freely, instead of playing doctor."

    "That would be amazing! Sneaking around to feed is less than ideal."

    "We''re almost there my friend. First, we have the cop to deal with.¡±

    "I already have the a man on it," Dr. Klanderman replied.

    "We''ll then, it won''t be long until our plan is back in motion. For now, I''ll plan to lay low."

    The two of them left, closing the door with a quiet, final click. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my heart started pounding again.

    Who the hell was that woman? I felt awful, taking Naomi to that warehouse had put her life in danger. Now someone was coming after her. I had to figure out how to warn her.

 19. Peer to Peer

    As I waited for the coast to clear, I found myself alone with my thoughts. It was the first time since the hospital I had really taken the time to reflect on my situation. So much has happened this week. Wow, had it been less than a week? Damn, it felt way longer.

    I grabbed the laptop and waited to see if anyone came in. I was having serious buyers remorse right about now. I hadn''t even gotten to use this thing for it''s intended purpose.

    Funny enough, the first thing I did after buying this thing wasn¡¯t checking out Alex¡¯s CD. I had drained my bank account for one purpose and one purpose only. To play video games with my friends.

    Once I picked up the computer, I went directly to my resident networking guru and neighbor, Ryan. He had told me that if I ever got a computer powerful enough to run games, he would hook me up with a bunch of them for free.

    You see, on top of being our networking guy, Ryan also held monthly events at his parents house called lan parties. They were basically a get together where all of the neighborhood boys would huddle under one roof with our computers, pizza, and literal truck loads of mountain dew, then go play different video games all night long.

    Until I got my laptop, I would attend the party and wait until one of the other kids got bored, then if I was lucky, they would let me borrow theirs. It was at his last party that I decided I needed to get my own.

    Yeah, I knew I should have been saving for college. But, It was embarrassing to show up and have to borrow some other person''s computer. Plus, I was going to need a computer for college, so I figured why not get a head start?

    As soon as my account hit seven hundred dollars, I immediately went on the hunt.

    I used teenager math to determine that if I bought the laptop and got six games for free, then the laptop basically paid for itself. That was assuming I ignored the legality of the situation, which I found surprisingly easy to do.

    After a day or two of looking around, I thought I''d found the perfect laptop. At only five hundred bucks, it was an absolute steal and left me some extra money for late night taco bell. It felt almost too good to be true. Now that I''d seen how everything has played out, I¡¯d say that it clearly was.

    When I got to Ryan¡¯s, he worked his network magic and set me up with some program called EZebra, or something like that. He claimed it would let us share files wirelessly without needing the internet. We just had to be on the same network. To be honest, I didn''t care about the details; all I heard was, "download this and you¡¯ll get Counter-Strike."

    I can''t believe i haven''t even gotten to play a single game. This ¡°gift¡± hasn¡¯t left room for much free time. To be honest, I''d had little desire to game anymore. Or do mich of anything at this point.

    I felt myself starting to spiral. Ok, that was probably enough self reflection for the day. The more I thought about this stuff, the more I realized how improbable it was that I was the unlucky guy to get this gift. Plus, If the doctor planned to come back, he certainly would have by now. I was in the clear. I listened for any signs of motion as I opened the laptop.

    A new notification popped up. Apparently, a new WiFi network called ¡°A11OurBseRBelong2Us¡± was available. Wait a minute, I recognized that network. That was the name of the hidden network Ryan had set up on his router so that the P2P app could work.

    He had told me what it stood for, but I couldn¡¯t remember. Something about a meme around a Japanese game and bases. He found it funny I guess.

    So, why was it showing up on my possible connections list? There was no way that router could reach for miles. Shoot, my parents'' router couldn¡¯t even make it to the basement without being in the perfect spot. So what the hell was happening?

    I clicked it, and bam, it connected instantly. My mouth dropped open. How the hell was this even possible? Hold on, why was I questioning a magical laptop? After all, this thing was able to literally teleport. By comparison, the ability to connect to a magical laptop was nothing.

    A notification popped up in the bottom of my taskbar. It was from the EZebra app. According to the notification, a new file had been downloaded to my computer. It was a folder with the title "JoeLookHere".

    That was weird. Someone knew I was here. Against my better judgment, I clicked on the folder. There was only a single photo and a text file. I focused on the text file first.

    <blockquote>

    ¡°Joe,

    I heard you weren¡¯t getting out anytime soon. Rumor was you snapped in there. That didn¡¯t seem right to me. I hope you¡¯re okay. I tried to use your laptop to do some research, but when I opened the screen, the computer got hot. It actually burned my hand. Then the whole thing vanished. I assumed it found its way back to you

    Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m fine. The burn¡¯s no worse than that time you scorched yourself on baked beans at Big Al''s. Anyway, it looks like the laptop is back with you, which means it can¡¯t fall into the wrong hands.

    After I found out you weren¡¯t coming home, I started digging. There¡¯s something seriously off here. I found an article about a group that sued Cottonwood in the eighties. Check it out¡ªit¡¯s in the folder.

    You should see the setup Ryan gave me. This backpack is fucking sweet. I hid the whole thing in some bushes outside of the building. Don¡¯t worry, I didn¡¯t tell him why I needed it.

    Unfortunately, the battery my laptop and router are hooked up to can only last around six hours. So our window to talk is limited. I¡¯ll swing by after school to see if you found this folder, then go recharge the backpack for the night. I sure hope you see it. If you do, please send me a note back.

    PS: Naomi says hello. That woman scares me. She¡¯s working to try and pull you out, but whoever is holding you, they have strong connections

    - Murph¡±

    </blockquote>

    I let out a sigh of relief. There were people on the outside still fighting for me, and now, I finally had a gateway to the outside world.

    How the hell had Murph done it? I still had no idea what ¡°it¡± was, but he had found a way for us to communicate. For real, what the hell would I have done without him? I¡¯d probably already be dead.

    I opened the image attachment. It was a scanned article from The Ravenwood Gazette. It was titled ¡°A Hospital That Experimented on Its Patients?¡±

    The article told of a collection of families who¡¯d sued Cottonwood in the eighties. They¡¯d accused the hospital of performing illegal experiments on their relatives, saying patients went in healthy but never came out. There were ten deaths in four years, and yet no one was held accountable. The case eventually got thrown out for lack of evidence. I had plenty of evidence in that secret room. They must not have seen it.

    So, these ghosts, they must have been the ones I saw. I knew they were from the eighties! There were people who¡¯d been experimented on, who never left. But why had these specific ones been held back? Based on the notebook I read, they had been doing this shit since the place opened.

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    I wondered if that was when Dr. Klandermans father took over. It¡¯s possible he was less careful than his father. Without more information, everything was just a guess at this point.

    I opened notepad and started typing:

    <blockquote>

    ¡°I¡¯m still here. Bad things are happening. Warn Naomi! She¡¯s in danger. Someone is out to get her. Also, check for anything you can find on real monsters. Specifically ones with zombie-like faces. Can¡¯t explain right now, but I promise it¡¯s important.

    You¡¯re amazing for this. Don¡¯t let Naomi scare you too much. Lol.¡±

    </blockquote>

    I read over the message, removing the lol at the end before saving the document. That was a bad habit from AIM and now wasn¡¯t the time to show humor.

    I hit upload and watched the little icon spin. Nothing. It just sat there, queued up.

    Come on! At this point, I could hear voices in the hall. I¡¯m going to get caught if this upload doesn¡¯t hurry up!

    Finally, it switched to in progress. I exhaled, and it soon switched to complete. I closed the laptop, shoved it under my mattress, and laid back, just in time for Nurse Asshole to swing the door open.

    The nurse walked in and started to get me into my chair.

    ¡°Well, well, I heard you got a little visit from Wyatt yesterday,¡± she said, her voice tinged with envy.

    She unlocked the chair and began to push, ¡°It¡¯s a shame he wasted a visit on a worthless sack of shit like yourself. A god visiting with a worthless cockroach. He should have just killed you on the spot.¡±

    She seemed different. Unnaturally angry about the encounter i had. That was odd.

    We made it to the door, then stopped. ¡°You know, he¡¯s going to save us from your kind. We¡¯ll no longer have to pretend to be worthless roaches.¡±

    She leaned around, her face caught the corner of my vision. Her face shifted to that form I had seen from before.

    What I hadn¡¯t noticed before now, was the smell that emanated from her in her new form. Her body smelled almost rotten too. I tried to hold back the urge to vomit.

    She smiled, ¡°Do I scare you, boy? Look at me. Get used to these faces!¡±

    I did my best to hold back any emotion as she studied me up and down. She looked for any break in my resolve. Finally, she grew tired of waiting for a reaction, then slipped her face back to her human form and pushed me out into the hall.

    ###

    It didn¡¯t take long to figure out where the loud boom from last night came from. Glass shards covered the floor of a now blocked off section of a neighboring hallway. From the looks of it, about a dozen fluorescent light bulbs had burst in the middle of the night.

    As Nurse Asshole wheeled me past the mess, I picked up the tail end of an argument between two electricians.

    ¡°Musta been counterfeit bulbs. Fucking overseas garbage,¡± muttered a chubby older man, his beard as gray as the smudges on his overalls.

    The younger guy, with a lumberjack beard and hair slicked back like he''d just come from a shoot for some rugged outdoor magazine, shook his head. ¡°Nah, No way it was the bulbs. Must¡¯ve been a power surge.¡±

    The older man snorted. ¡°A power surge that only affects this one hallway? Come on, newbie. Use your brain.¡±

    ¡°Well shit, then maybe it¡¯s a poltergeist,¡± the young guy said.

    ¡°Polterwhat?¡± The old man frowned.

    ¡°You know, evil ghosts. My cousin¡¯s barn had one when they first moved in. They had to bring in an exorcist.¡±

    ¡°God, you¡¯re dumb,¡± the older man muttered. They kept bickering as we turned the corner.

    Poltergeist? Wouldn¡¯t that have been something. From what I¡¯d seen in the guide so far, there was no signs of that stuff being real.

    Still, he was right about one part. Something supernatural happened there. Whatever it was, it saved my life. Poltergeist or not, I was grateful for them.

    As we reached the cafeteria, I noticed it was packed with ordinary people. There wasn¡¯t a single ghost around. I felt a pit open up in my stomach. Where had they gone? There were no signs of vengeful spirits around. Shouldn¡¯t they be back by now?

    Nurse Asshole parked me next to a few people I¡¯d never talked to before. Not that it really mattered. None of them ever talked outside of Jeremiah. Even that was just random chanting. Although, It hadn''t escaped me that he was noticeably absent from the room.

    Courtney and Aubry were here. They were sitting a few tables away. I noticed Courtney had her hand bandaged. I felt a sudden pang of guilt. Murph had mentioned something about burns when he¡¯d opened my laptop. I had asked her to go find it for me last night, right before it showed up in my room.

    Shit, had Courtney tried to open it? Great, I felt like a complete asshole.

    I shoveled some of the cafeteria slop into my mouth, realizing I hadn¡¯t eaten since yesterday.

    Courtney came over, plopping herself down next to me, her eyes focused on someone else across the room. She didn''t want it to seem obvious that she was talking to me.

    ¡°Hey, new guy,¡± she said, voice light, but with a tinge of frustration. ¡°I tried to get your laptop, but something weird happened. You really need to fill me in if you want any more help.¡±

    I looked ahead, it wasn¡¯t safe to talk. I had dragged her into my mess and now she was hurt. That was my fault. Fuck, all I¡¯d done since gaining these powers was put my friends in danger. I had to be better.

    ¡°Also,¡± she continued, with a smirk that had a bit of edge to it, ¡°I do take apology gifts. I¡¯ve always been a big fan of pink monkeys. Stuffed would be fine.¡±

    Pink monkeys? That seemed out of character for her. I guess I had no idea what was out of character. I realized I barely knew the girl.

    ¡°Hey, don¡¯t worry about me,¡± she said, noticing my expression. ¡°It¡¯s just a sting. One of the nurses gave me some cream for it¡ªsilver something. I¡¯m used to pain.¡±

    That didn¡¯t make me feel any better. Something behind us caught my attention. Someone was there. It was nurse Asshole.

    ¡°What are you doing over here, young lady?¡± she barked.

    Courtney stammered, ¡°I¡ªI was just¡­¡±

    Nurse Asshole moved toward her but hesitated when she saw Courtney¡¯s bandaged hand. For a split second, her face flickered, revealing the distorted, nightmarish version of herself before snapping back to normal.

    That was weird. Something about Courtney''s hand caused that reaction. It was just a burn. How could she be scared of a burn?

    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be over here,¡± she said, her voice cold. ¡°Go back to where you belong.¡±

    ¡°But I was only trying to help him talk again¡ª¡±

    ¡°Now, young lady!¡± Nurse Asshole¡¯s voice was sharp, and she backed away, keeping her eyes on Courtney''s hand. She looked terrified.

    I watched her walk off, my mind racing. Whatever was up with Courtney''s hand, it had rattled the nurse. Wait, what was it she said she used on her hand?

    Silver. Courtney mentioned silver. Was there silver in burn cream? Or was that just the name? Surely she wasn¡¯t just allergic to creams. I had to get my hands on that cream to test it out.

    Courtney would probably let me borrow some of it. But how would I even explain that without dragging her deeper? The last thing I wanted was for her to get hurt again. No, I had to do this on my own.

    I guess I could try and burn myself. But with what? The laptop won¡¯t burn me and matches weren¡¯t exactly on the cafeteria¡¯s list of amenities. Plus, I had been burned before once when I spilled boiling beans all over my arm while at work. I still remembered the pain I felt. The itch that couldn¡¯t be scratched. I preferred to not have that feeling again.

    Were there any other silver things in a mental hospital? If something had silver in it, did that mean it was coated in silver? Fuck, who knows. This cream was my best bet. At least I was sure either this or the bandage had terrified the woman. That meant I¡¯d have to find my way into the medical closet and snag some.

    Great, well, at least I knew of a potential weakness. Or at least a potential lead. Now I needed to figure out a plan.