This is one of my older stories, but hopefully it's still enjoyable. This part doesn't contain any sex, though future chapters may eventually have some.
I didn't want to wake up. There was an insistent hunger gnawing at my stomach, but the bed was just so warm and cozy. It almost felt like there was someone else with me...
My eyes shot open, and I frantically patted the blankets all around me before sighing with relief, feeling stupid. Of course there was no one else here. But man, what a freaky dream. It felt... real. I didn't think all the crazy talk about hauntings would get to me, but I guess it got to my subconscious.
I yawned, stretching until my joints popped and hoping I could just forget about it. Reluctantly rolling out of bed, I scratched myself in an unladylike way as I shambled down the stairs, wishing I'd had the forethought to pack my slippers in my suitcase instead of in a box. I should find those today. Food, then slippers. That sounds like a plan I can get behind.
I reached the barren kitchen and opened the refrigerator, finding it just as empty as it had been yesterday. Grabbing the container of leftovers that had been my takeout dinner last night, I turned to the microwave, my brain beginning to fully awaken from its sleepy haze.
What's for breakfast?
"Jesusmotherfuck-" The styrofoam box went flying from my hands, then started floating in midair. I almost fainted.
Whoops. Sorry, I forgot that might startle you. I'm not used to people hearing me.
The lid squeaked as it popped open by itself.
Oh, hey, pad thai. Nice.
I sat down heavily on the linoleum, my head in my hands as memories came rushing back.
Gwen? Are... you okay?
"It wasn't a dream," I gasped. "Oh fuck, it wasn't a dream. It wasn't a dream. Fuck me, it wasn't a
dream.
"
Want to say it one more time, see if it makes you feel better?
"It wasn't a dream!" I moaned, curling my arms around my head.
Oh. I was joking. Come on, why are you freaking out now? You were, like, super chill about me last night.
I didn't respond, too focused on preventing myself from hyperventilating. There was a sigh.
Whatever. I'd give you a hug, but I'm the thing you're having a breakdown over, so...
I heard the microwave open and close, then a few irregular beeps mixed with cursing.
Mother- Goddamn tiny buttons- Just- fucking- there!
The microwave turned on, slowly filling the air with the scent of pad thai.
It's hard to remain panicked when your stomach is audibly growling. I gradually regained my composure, enough that when a floating, steaming box of noodles was offered to me, I didn't scream, just took wordlessly took it.
Forks, forks, forks... that one, I think? Yesss, perfect.
A drawer opened and a fork slipped out, wobbling in the air as it came closer to me until it dropped on my knee and bounced into the pad thai.
Shit! Okay, phew. Sorry, I lost my grip on it. Go ahead and eat up.
My hunger prompted me to dig in, and the kitchen was silent except for the sound of me stuffing my face. Eventually, I set the empty box down, sitting there with my arms curled around my knees. It felt weird to accept the fact that a ghost had just microwaved leftovers for me, but what else could I do? Not believe my own senses? Run screaming out of the house? It seemed too late for either of those. I was either crazy, in which case there wasn't much I could do about it, or I wasn't, in which case... there wasn't much I could do about it. If nothing else, I could be polite, even if it was to a possible hallucination.
"Thanks," I muttered.
No problem.
We were both quiet. After a while, I added, "And... um. Sorry."
For what?
"For..." I hesitated. I was well within my rights to flip out when a ghost started talking to me, but I still felt embarrassed. "I- I don't know. Being rude."
It's okay. I'm pretty sure that was just delayed freaking out. You were kind of in shock last night, now that I think about it.
I nodded slightly, then pushed myself up off the floor, realizing how cold my butt had gotten from sitting on the linoleum. "Um. I was going to unpack some stuff, do you...?" I faltered, not even sure what I was trying to ask.
Hey, I'm just a ghost. Do your thing. I'll probably tag along, if you don't mind.
"N-No, it's okay," I said, and realized I meant it. This house was big and empty and old, too much for just one person. A ghost was... not the company I would have chosen, but Mel seemed nice, if a little out of touch with personal boundaries. In any case, it wasn't like I could get rid of her, or even stop her from doing what she wanted.
With the kind of indifference born from not having a choice, I tossed the takeout container in the trash and stuck the fork in the lonely expanse of the dishwasher. Now, slippers, slippers... There were boxes pretty much all over the house, located approximately where their contents would go. The slippers should be in my bedroom somewhere, which narrowed it down to... about a dozen packages, crammed full of clothes. I sighed, starting to trek up the stairs and pausing halfway when I felt the hairs on the back on my neck prickle.
"Are you there, Mel?" I asked carefully.
Yeah.
"Um. Where is there, exactly?" I looked around aimlessly.
Behind- no, well, you just turned around again- okay, I'm in front of you now.
I watched the patch of empty air, feeling stupid. After a moment, Mel giggled, a strangely wonderful sound that made me want to smile. Nevertheless, it raised a question. "What?"
Nothing. I'm just, like, super mature.
The confusion I was feeling must have shown on my face.
I kind of hovered up and to the side so that you were staring at my boobs. Yeah, I know. I'm totally an adult.
I blushed, feeling ridiculous as I did so, but her words also brought more questions to mind. "You... you can hover?"
Yeah. Only like, a foot or two off the ground, though. I don't know why.
"And, um, what do you look like?" Mel was quiet, and I added, "I mean, you say adult, and you're a woman, but... I have no idea, otherwise."
Do you want, like, the accurate version?
she said, eventually.
I could do something fun.
You
don't know if I'm a six-foot tall Amazonian warrior or not.
"I- I'd prefer accurate," I said, not entirely sure if that was the truth. What if she was ugly, or horribly disfigured, or, somehow worse, drop-dead gorgeous? Okay, maybe 'drop-dead' wasn't the best turn of phrase to use... and that raised even more questions, but ones I restrained myself from asking.
So... do you want what I look like as, y'know, a ghost, or just the human stuff?
I shrugged, already regretting the question. Was she going to tell me about some gross wound? "I just... want something to picture while I'm talking to you."
Fine,
Mel sighed.
Give me a little bit to think about it, okay? I don't know how to describe myself.
"Alright..." I started walking up the stairs again, reaching my bedroom and groaning as I looked at the stacks of cardboard. Some were labeled 'clothes', but there was no indication as to which ones held shoes. Thanks, past me. Great job. I grabbed a random box and sat down on the bed to open it, then realized I had forgotten to bring scissors with me. Probably from the distraction of having a ghost tail me around the house. Rather than, like a normal person, going downstairs and fetching some, I just wrenched at the flaps until the tape gave up.
Wow. You're really going to town on that thing.
