Page 12 of Ghosted

Casper perked up. “That’s a great idea.”

Stepping intoThe Lantern & Lorefelt like slipping into my favorite old sweater. The familiar scents of aged paper and cedar hung in the air, mixed with lavender and a hint of vanilla from the candles I kept burning near the register. Golden morning light streamed through the front windows that looked out on the town square. Red and orange leaves now covered the green in front of the courthouse, and I spied a young mother with herlong hair piled into a messy bun watching two young children happily jumping into a pile under a large maple tree.

The shop was quiet, and I relished the cozy atmosphere as I moved through the narrow aisles. The antique lantern sconces flickered with a soft glow, casting shadows across the spines of books about local legends, ancient folklore, and, of course, ghost stories—October bestsellers. Today, though, I wasn’t here to organize or stock. Today was about writing an apology on behalf of my ghostly ex, who was now wandering around in the ether somewhere, probably in the Environment and Nature section.

Once inside my small office in the back, I settled in, surrounded by my usual organized chaos. Papers were piled high, sticky notes littered my desk with reminders I’d long since forgotten, and a half-burned candle perched next to my laptop. I could just make out the faint vanilla scent it had left behind. Sitting at my desk, I opened my laptop, fingers hovering over the keyboard as I began typing out Casper’s apology to Gina, the next woman on his list, hoping this one might actually get through.

But my mind kept drifting, stubbornly tugged toward questions I couldn’t ignore. Sweetberry Hollow had always been steeped in rumors about ghosts, witches, and even the occasional vampire. I’d brushed them off before, happy to enjoy the town’s spooky charm from a skeptical distance. But now, with a literal ghost hanging out in my apartment, there was no ignoring the town’s mysteries, especially when I seemed to be one of the few people who could actually see him.

I started typing again, only for my thoughts to wander once more. Daphne and Esme were members of the Eastern Enchantresses, Sweetberry Hollow’s friendliest coven of witches, who spent most of their time cleansing “negative vibes” with sage bundles and discussing lunar cycles. Daphnehad always tried to nudge me to believe in the mystical world, but she’d never actually hinted that I might have a knack for it myself. And yet, here I was, holding full conversations with a ghost. If that didn’t raise a few questions, I didn’t know what would.

Unable to resist, I pushed my chair back and crossed the room to my bookshelves, the ones in the office stacked with the rare and old books that didn’t often make it to the shop floor. My fingers traced along the spines until they settled on a few books about occult communication, folklore, and local legends. Then one title caught my eye:Spirits of the Hollow. The cover was worn, and the pages smelled faintly of old leather and ink. It was one of the first books I’d added to my collection when I opened the shop, though I’d never had a reason to read it. Today felt like the perfect time to change that.

I flipped through the yellowed pages, my fingers lingering over a chapter titled “Seers and Sensitives.” According to this old book, Sweetberry Hollow was home to certain people with a “sensitivity” to spirits, an ability that allowed them to communicate with the dead, sometimes unknowingly. However, this ability could manifest in different ways depending on the paranormal nature of the person, such as a psychic medium, a witch, or a necromancer. As I skimmed through the lines, I felt an odd twinge in my chest, but glancing up at the clock, I closed the book for later reading. I still wasn’t convinced I had any latent powers, but I couldn’t deny the possibility anymore. Maybe I was connected to Casper in ways neither of us had fully understood before.

With that unsettling thought in mind, I pulled the printed apology letter for Gina out of the printer, folded it carefully inside an envelope, and tucked it into my bag. It seemed like a flimsy peace offering given everything, but it was worth a shot.If this strange journey with Casper was going to help him make amends—and help me understand my own ties to this weird town—then I’d keep at it, one letter at a time.

Our second visit took us to a small apartment complex on the outskirts of town. I knocked on her door, hoping she’d be home. Thankfully I heard the sound of footsteps approaching, and a minute later she opened her door, squinting at me with suspicion.

“Hi, you must be Gina. I’m…a neighbor of yours,” I fibbed quickly, “and I think this letter was mistakenly delivered to me. It’s addressed to you from a Casper Thorne.” I reached into my bag and handed her the envelope.

Without even glancing at it, she folded it into a little airplane and flung it down the hall. “If it’s from that weasel, I don’t need to read it,” she muttered, shutting the door in my face.

Casper sighed, his face lined with guilt.

“This isn’t working, is it?” he said, looking utterly defeated. “I really want to make amends, but I honestly don’t know how anymore.”

I thought for a moment, and then an idea hit me. “Wait. Why don’t we try a public apology? Something on social media?”

His eyes brightened at the suggestion. “That’s…actually not a bad idea. I could reach everyone all at once. No awkward encounters having you be my go-between.”

We returned to my apartment, stopping on the way at a local café where I picked up a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich for lunch. After I ate, I opened my laptop, where we spent the next hour drafting the apology, with Casper dictating his thoughts while I typed the post on his social media account.

“I owe a massive apology to anyone I hurt by ghosting them. I was immature and thought I was sparing feelings, but I see now how wrong I was, and that honesty is always the best policy. I am sincerely sorry to everyone I affected.”

After a deep breath, I hit “post,” and within minutes, the responses started rolling in. Women thanked him for his transparency, friends chimed in to support his growth, and a few people expressed relief at seeing him own up to his mistakes.

Casper seemed visibly lighter, a sense of relief washing over him as he read through the comments. “This…actually feels kind of good,” he admitted. “Better than I expected, anyway.”

Just as he finished speaking, the window flew open, and a gust of wind burst through the room, blowing the curtains wildly. The lights flickered, and a peal of thunder cracked overhead.

Then, in a flash of lightning, Morticia swooped in, perched on a broomstick, her crimson lips twisted into a wicked smirk.

“Don’t celebrate just yet, darling,” she cackled, landing with an ominous click of her heels as she eyed us both.

I shrieked, dropping my coffee cup as Morticia, elegant and terrifying, made herself at home in my living room.

Chapter Six

“Mommy Issues”

Casper

“Holy crap, Morticia,” I said, unable to hold back. “I don’t know what I ever saw in you.”

The woman didn’t even flinch. Instead, she propped her broomstick against the wall with the grace of someone hanging up a designer handbag and then made herself right at home on Tabitha’s sofa, crossing her legs and giving me a smug smile. “Ah, ah, ah, careful now, darling,” she crooned, shaking her finger at me. “Remember, your life is on the line.”

I watched as Tabitha, clearly rattled, scrambled to pick up the empty coffee cup she’d dropped. She managed to recover with an awkward attempt at hospitality. “Can I…uh…get you anything to drink, Morticia?” she asked, her voice slightly shaky.

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