Page 1 of Ghostly Touches

Chapter1

WILLOW

“Okay, okay, I can’t do this anymore!”

As I stumble away from the mass of partygoers, my breathless declaration is met with a handful of boos. My laughter follows me to a beach chair I collapse into.

“Oh, come on, love, we’ve got hours until sunrise,” says the pirate who materializes in front of me. Captain McGregor’s hat and long, white beard blow in a nonexistent breeze. His weathered clothes cling to his large frame, and his sword, sheathed at his side, clatters against the buckles on his booted feet.

Feet that hover just a few inches off the sand.

“Some of us can still get exhausted,” I point out as my toes dig into the warm, soft sand. “And, I hate to point this out, but sunrise wasn’t the agreement when I offered to put this on. I gave you until midnight.”

The pirate snorts and crosses his arms.

“You would deny all these lovely people a full night of debauchery?”

I look past him to the others. The spirits of pirates long since passed dance around the very real bonfire I created a few hours ago. Their drunken ramblings, crude jokes, and the obscene gestures they fling at one another as they stumble around the blaze are hilarious to me and to the hundred other spirits I brought with me tonight. Everyone’s enjoying themselves. Even the typically mopey spirits who linger in the graveyard beside my house are smiling and interacting with others.

“You’re greedy, asking for more time when I’ve already given you all of this,” I tease.

His weathered skin creases around his eyes and mouth as he chuckles.

“I’m a pirate, love. I’ll take and take and never be satisfied.”

That’s probably what got him killed.

“Touché.” Shaking my head, I add, “And yes, I’m going to call an end to this in ten minutes.”

“But—”

“You all can have fun on the other side; this isn’t your last party,” I interrupt, knowing the captain can argue his way out of anything if I let him. I can’t budge on this. “Trust me, Captain.”

He huffs.

“You’ve never been on the other side,” he says, looking back at his men with a frown. “How do you know what will happen to them when we’re over there?”

I reach out and take his hand. It surprises him. His eyes fly to our hands, where they linger. Having been dead for nearly four hundred years, he hasn’t been able to feel anything. With my power, I can give a spirit back all of their senses. Including touch. I don’t use my power in this manner often. Just allowing them to be seen like this can cause me a headache if anyone alive wanders by. But it is worth it, in this instance, to allow this boisterous man to feel heard. After all, he’s been my friend for months now.

“You’re right. I don’t know what happens on the other side. But I know your story doesn’t end. If it did, I wouldn’t be able to commune with spirits already over there.” I smile up at him while he frowns. “Whatever happens, remember that you’re a brave man. You can handle anything. As you lead your men and all these other wonderful spirits into the unknown, keep your head high. You may be pleasantly surprised by what’s over there.”

He grunts as I let go of him.

“Alright, love. I hear ya. I’ll be tellin’ me men to prepare for our next adventure.”

Captain McGregor moves away from me to call his men over.

With a sigh, I lean back in my chair and watch as the party comes to an end. While it’s been fun, I’m glad to see them go. Most of these spirits should have crossed over long ago. Occasionally, a spirit either avoids detection by a reaper, or fights the call to cross over naturally and will linger in the Realm of the Living. In any given small town, maybe five or ten spirits have lingered past their due date. Captain McGregor’s small band is an example of those who have avoided crossing over.

But things are changing.

Every town I’ve lived in for the past five years, I’ve found more and more spirits lingering in this realm. When asked why they have stayed, each spirit has said almost the same thing: there’s nowhere to go. They’re stuck. It’s strange and a little alarming. It shouldn’t be this hard to cross over.

The captain and his men are lucky. Four hundred years, and they still maintain their features and personalities. Sometimes it only takes a few decades for a spirit to fade away from the person they were, becoming a malevolent force known as a Sliver. Desperate to be someone, or something again, Slivers slink around looking to possess living vessels. These spirits dancing around and full of mirth have to move on.

Thankfully, I have the ability to help these poor souls.

I push myself up to my feet as the captain and his crew begin to round up the rest of the spirits. Turning away from the bonfire, I walk towards the water. I only stop walking when waves crash over my ankles. I turn around to face the crowd of spirits anxiously watching my every move. I smile back at the familiar faces. My heart squeezes in pain. It’s always hard to say goodbye. I may not have known them while they were alive, but the spirits I engage with always leave a lasting impression.

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