There was a long time where it didn’t matter.
I died and the furor around the body and cleanup and then the house went on the market… and sat there… and sat there… and sat there. It was just me and the gathering dust. It wasn’t lonely, per se, it was just… boring. I roamed the dark halls and through the rooms and I didn’t care that my passage didn’t draw eddies in the dust, or that I could pass through walls without budging the few pictures that hung precariously at odd angles on their half-pulled out nails.
But then the living man moved in.
And that was fine, too… until it wasn’t. I overheard him talking to the neighbor who told him this place is haunted – which is great! That means I’ve made an impression!
But this new tenant of my house replies, “Oh that’s okay, I don’t believe in ghosts.”
Don’t believe in… Oh, that’s rich. That’s… Okay, I was determined that this unbeliever was not only going to see a ghost, but I was going to scare the ectoplasm out of him! (Living people have ectoplasm, right? It’s been so long…).
That night, I followed behind him as he turned off the lights and started upstairs. When I say I was behind him, I was his shadow. And it looked like I was being effective – he shivered more than once and checked the thermostat more than once before finally putting a sweater on.
Then the moment came – he had finally settled into a deep sleep and started to snore a little. I moved to the foot of his bed and yelled, “Boo!” at the top of my not-lungs, my arms raised in what I felt was a menacing gesture.
He kept snoring.
“Boo!” I bellowed again. Nothing. As I lowered my arms, though, I noticed something – I could see the bedspread through my hand. Oh man, of course he couldn’t hear me – I was totally incorporeal! Sure, I could give him the chills, but actually manifesting? Nope.
In my mind, “Eye of the Tiger” started playing and I started my training montage.
I focused on sound: every night, standing beside the man I focused and spoke a single syllable. “Buh!”… “Buh!”… “Buh!” until finally, one night, I said, “Buh!” and he paused the television show he was watching and listened hard. That was a start!
Then I focused on substance: I directed all my energy to the very tip of my finger and I stabbed it at the edge of the couch cushion. It went right through it. Again; straight through. Again; straight through… finally after so much effort, I watched my finger dimple the cushion fabric. I jumped up and danced around. I poked again and again dimpled the cushion… until I poked a little harder and my entire hand went through the cushion. There was work to do…
Next I worked on visibility: I directed my mind to thinking I was solid, visible, corporeal. I emptied my mind, pictured solid things – brick walls… other walls. I moved my hand in front of the man watching television – he didn’t budge. I kept it up – even more solid walls! Maybe ones made of metal – iron! I was iron! Hand in front of the man… and he squinted and turned his head slightly to see around my hand!
I kept practicing all three elements of being substantial. Could he hear me? Could I touch him? Could he see me? It took some time, but eventually I perfected every element required. I was like an Airbender but a ghost – Ghostbender! Yes, Ghostbender! Sadly, I could not find a ghost flying buffalo (I’m still looking).
When I definitively felt like there was no way he wouldn’t be scared by my terrifying-ness, I again waited for him to fall asleep. I waited for the snores to start. I crept to the side of the bed – better to be closer for maximum terror!
I counted to ten and then I bellowed, “Boo!” My arms raised menacingly, my body absolutely corporeal.
The man startled awake, saw my shape, and punched me so hard I fell backwards, lost my concentration, and fell through the wall into the next room.
I groaned as I lay on my back and I heard him frantically turn the light on and fumble for his glasses. “Who’s there? Hello? Who’s there?!” he demanded, a distinct element of fear in his voice.
I smiled.
Now it mattered, and I had just begun to haunt.
