Legacy's Ghost

Episode 14: Game Day

I walk into the room that the others said was the Game Room. Inside there are several tables covered in a green, felt-like material and old-fashioned paper playing cards. A dealer sits at each table, waiting expectantly.

So much of what people do anymore are on holograms or digital devices. Never in person like these games.

I stop and sit at the closest table. It's empty aside from me and the dealer, a woman with long

brown hair braided down her back, wearing a white button down shirt and black pants. She nods at me. "Welcome."

"Hi," I mutter, running my hands along the almost furry texture of the table, and still painfully uncomfortable with the idea of people talking to and noticing me.

"Have you ever played poker before?" she asks, her voice unnervingly gentle.

I glance up at her, then duck it again before shaking my head. "I've seen people play it in movies, but I've never played it." I point to the cards. "Where did you get those?"

She smiles. "These are special for this occasion. They're played once per year when it's time to teach the apprentices."

My eyebrows shoot up. "Why?"

"To teach the subtle art of diplomacy," a deep voice says from behind me.

I startle and straighten, then look over my shoulder. The Ghost, complete in his dark cloak and even darker hood, is standing near my right shoulder.

I stare up at him and blink. The Ghost inclines his head toward the seat next to mine. "May I sit?"

"Sh-sure," I say.

I scoot my chair over, scraping the legs on the wooden floor as I make more room for him.

He sits and places his gloved hands on the table. The gloves aren't quite leather, but not made of cloth or any other material I've seen before either. Is it specially made for him?

The hood turns slightly toward me and I look into it, hoping to catch a glimpse of the owner's face, but it's dark, as if staring into a starless night sky.

I fight the urge to recoil. The view is uncanny – as if there is no head inside the cloak.

The hood inclines slightly. "What?"

I bite my lip then say, "I was just wondering how you keep your face hidden."

He's silent for a few seconds, then says, "If—when you become the Ghost, I'll show you all my little tricks. But for now, I'll just say it's an optical illusion."

I furrow my brows and gaze into his hood longer.

Trina drops into a chair on the other side of me and digs an elbow into my ribs. "You're staring. That's rude."

I blink and turn to look at her before glancing back at the Ghost. "Sorry."

"I'm used to it," the Ghost says, with humor in his voice. "Not even adults can keep from staring on occasion."

One side of my mouth tips upward. "I know how that feels. Do you ever scare them?"

"Occasionally. What's the point of being the Ghost if you can't haunt a person or two?"

Trina giggles. "Oh, that's naughty. I like it."

"I'll be sure to remember that the next time I see you in the hallways at night," the Ghost says.

Trina's eyes widen. "You've been in the halls at night?"

The Ghost nods.

Her face pales and her eyes widen further.