For half a minute, I actually thought having my dad's ghost show up might be a good thing.
Aren't dead people supposed to review their life or something? If he knew who'd killed him, we could solve the mystery right now.
He quickly disabused me of that notion.
'If I knew that, I'd have sent my worthless familiar to avenge me, not to babysit my disappointment of a son,' he said, in response to my inquiry.
The room grew steadily colder as he spoke, to the point I saw my breath cloud the air.
I crossed my arms over my chest and shivered as I frowned at his shadowy form. "But don't you find out all the answers to everything and shit, after the, uh, 'fact?'"
'Not in my experience,' he rasped.
"Then why are you here?"
He faded into the shadows at the corner of the room until just the pinprick lights of his eyes were visible, and his whispered words were like the rustle and crunch of dead leaves.
'You tell me,' he said, and then the lights of his eyes blinked out.
Great. More nightmare-fuel. Thanks, Dad.
I went downstairs to get Janelle.
Clearly, I was either psychic or psychotic, and I trusted her to know which.
❧
"Can you see him now?" she asked as she did a sweep of the room with a bit of incense in a bowl.
I glanced at the corner, where the vague outline of a form was just visible if I didn't look right at it. "Sort of."
He flickered in and out of my perception, like a radio station with a bad signal.
"What's he doing?"
"Just... standing there," I said.
I gestured, and Janelle went over, incense in hand.
"He say anything?"
"Not now. He did before, though. He said I 'summoned' him."
She turned to look at me, brows raised. "He's aware he's dead?"
"Seems to be. Is that... not how ghosts work?"
She wafted the incense back and forth a few times without answering. When it produced no effect, she gave up and came to sit at my side on the bed, making the mattress dip so I had to lean away not to fall into her.
"You ever watch any of those ghost-hunting type shows? Bunch 'a dumbasses running around, jumping at shadows and scaring each other?"
"Once or twice," I admitted.
"They're a load of bull, mostly, but they get a few things right—that there are different types of hauntings, for one thing. There's 'residual hauntings,' which is like a bit of tape stuck on a loop—the same thing playing over and over again. Your classic lady in white, who walks down the hall every night at the same time, for example. It's not so much a spirit as a... 'psychic recording,' of a sort. Then there are 'intelligent' hauntings, or spirits that seem able to communicate, in one way or another. Finally, sentient hauntings—the least common—are spirits who are fully aware of who and what they are, as well as where, why, and when. Typically, only powerful spirits, with a powerful connection to this world, fall into that category."
"But why would my dad be connected to your house?" I asked. "He never even came here, did he?"
"Nope. But he's not haunting the house; he's haunting you."
YOU ARE READING
Bad Luck, Baby
ÜbernatürlichesEllie Harris (they/he) has hit a patch of bad luck. Their dad died, they lost their job, their boyfriend cheated on them, and, to top things off, they literally trip over a black cat. What else could go wrong? Then Ellie learns their dad was a witc...
