Ghost Boy (title will change)

Chapter 2: The Feather (Jane)

Jane held out the feather string. It was an invention she had just thought of, but she believed that a spirit who wanted to communicate would take any invitation to do so. She didn't have to wait long before she felt a cool wind move the feather, making it shake violently back and forth.

"Aagh!" She yelped and started to retract her hand, but extended it again. She didn't want to break any connection she may have made with the presence in her room. If it were an angry spirit, she would have felt its negative energy, right? Jane took a deep breath and composed herself.

The room was dark, except for the small lamplight by which she had been writing a poem and the circle of moonlight in the center of her room. She watched the swinging shadow her feather cast in the white, milky light. Clearly and coolly she spoke:

"My name is Jane. Do you have something to say?" She waited.

The feather moved again, in a less natural but gentler pattern. She thought she could see a bigger shadow dancing with the one that the feather cast. She focused on it.

"It's okay. I welcome you to talk to me."

Without a doubt, she felt something gently tug on the string, like someone was holding it. Energy moved up through the string into her fingers, and pulsed in her hand.

The presence definitely didn't feel hostile. In fact, it felt kind and caring, even affectionate. Jane was shocked to feel herself blush. "Uh, do I know you...?" She said, looking at her hand.

Slowly and cautiously, she opened her hand. The string didn't fall. She felt something pressing it into her palm. She stared in awe as a shape started to form around her hand. It was a mix of shadow and light, churning and swirling until it became two distinct shapes: shimmering, translucent hands clasping Jane's. She stared into the mesmerizing image of milky white light, which shifted within outlines of fingers. Currents of energy distorted her view of her hand, like she was seeing it from the bottom of a pond.

Jane shifted her gaze to the wrists, which extended into more erratically churning energy in a jumble that loosely resembled arms, shoulders, a torso, and legs. Atop the wispy shoulders sat the head of a young boy.

At first, his face was as inconsistent as the rest of his body. But the more Jane focused, the more she believed that she was actually looking at the face of someone who was there in front of her, the clearer his features became.

The first things she could see were his eyes. They were big and round, framed by thick, curly lashes. He was gazing right at her with bright beams of light that resembled the reflection of the sun off the sea. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed in astonishment and curiosity.

Soon there was a pointed nose, full lips, a hard jaw, and short, wavy hair that stuck out around his face in thick curls. Jane caught herself smiling, then mentally scolded herself. How could she think that a ghost was... kind of cute?

Who would have thought that she would make contact with a ghost one day, let alone it be attractive? Jane figured that this encounter could change some of her beliefs about the paranormal. She would have to try to learn from the ghost, if it was human-like enough to tell stories and have normal conversations.

"I'm Jane," she said sweetly. The voice of reason in her head complained that she had thrown all caution out the window, but she couldn't help believing that the spirit would do nothing to harm her. She looked into the ghost's eyes and gave him a reassuring smile.

The ghost only looked confused and upset. His hands faded  from white to murky dark purple. His entire body dimmed. Jane felt his mood wash over her and get into her head. Her chest hurt with the feeling of betrayal and heartbreak. How had she made him feel this way? Jane could only wait for an answer as his presence became more intense.