The Ghost Host

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Trouble Is

Tired after a late night at work, I unlock the door to the apartment I share with my best friend Kyran, glad to be out of the humid Georgia air.

"Malachi!" Kyran yells as soon as he hears the apartment door open.

I'm not really in the mood to try and keep him alive on whatever video game he's playing. "I'm not helping you," I call back.

I toss my keys in the dish on top of the entertainment center and head for the kitchen. For the millionth time I wonder why we hooked up both our PS4s in my room and the XBOX to the main TV. We both know Kyran spends most of his time on the PS4 getting massacred by other players. He's been my best friend my whole life, but I'd really like to just go crash in my room without him in there yelling at the TV.

I'm reaching for a glass before I realize Kyran isn't in my room. He's planted at the kitchen table, eyes glued to his laptop screen. "You've gotta watch this! Hurry up and get over here," he demands.

This new plea doesn't make me any more inclined to do what he wants. "Kyran, I'm goin' to bed. I'll watch it in the morning."

I don't know how he manages to get any schoolwork done between video games and YouTube. Shaking my head, I fill my glass with water from the tap and drink it down. You wouldn't think playing the piano at a swanky restaurant all night would be thirsty work, but I'm not allowed to have drinks at the piano, not even water. It makes for a long night sometimes.

"Do I really have to drag you over here?" Kyran snaps. "Come watch this. Now."

Rolling my eyes, I give in. I'm too tired to argue, so I drop into the seat next to him. I wish I hadn't as soon as I see the title of the video. "The Ghost Host?" I start to get back up, but Kyran grabs my arm.

"Come on, man," I complain, "you know I'm not into that stuff. Call Cerise and nerd out with her."

"Sit down and watch this," Kyran demands again. "It's about Grandma Maddie."

That gets my attention. Kyran's always been fascinated with the supernatural. Southerners tend to hold onto superstitions, and Georgia ain't no different in that regard, but I don't have the patience for it. However, the mention of my great grandma Madeline will stop me in my tracks no matter what the context. Kyran hits play, and for once, I'm glued to the video he's trying to show me.

I'll admit, even after being spooked by hearing the name of Grandma Maddie, my first thought when the video starts is how hot the host is. Her hair is practically orange, but not an obnoxious orange. It's more of a burnt orange, dark, rich, and nearly as captivating as her smile. I forget why I'm watching this as I simply stare at her.

Honestly, I don't even know what it is about her that's caught my attention so much. Just a pull, something begging me to pay attention. When I come out of my fog, I notice her tense posture and the way her eyes keep darting around the set. What is she afraid of? Is it just an act?

I perk up when she says she has a guest ready to play her question and answer game. Her handwriting is nothing like my sisters', whose pride in being cultured Southern girls insists that they have handwriting which could be framed if someone actually cared to do such a thing. This girl, Echo I think she said her name was, scribbles out her rules as if she couldn't care less if anyone can actually read it.

When she finishes, something weird happens. I assume it's just part of the act when her posture changes and her eyes seem to lose focus, but the second she starts writing again, my blood goes cold. It's been eight years since Grandma Maddie died, but I still have letters she wrote to me during the school year. I know her handwriting. I have no clue how to react to seeing it scrawled out across Echo's chalkboard.