The Ghost Pirate

I opened my eyes with a start. Where am I? This isn't the Scavenger. Where…? Then I remembered. It had all been a dream.

-"Stupid memories," I muttered. "How come I can't remember what I did last week but I can remember what happened almost three hundred years ago? It's madness!"

I groaned and jumped out of my hammock. Ever since the Turners, the owners of the house I lived in, had figured out just who and what I was, they had been stocking my room with piratey-things. There was even a saltwater aquarium in the corner.

I suppose I should start at the beginning. At the age of ten, I joined the crew of the Dark Scavenger with my father. His sole goal in life was to provide for his family and after he lost his store to a fire, he decided piracy was the way to go. Hang all the warnings and dreadful deaths – it was the only choice he had. He had to care for his wife, his daughter, and me.

Anyways, long story short, he was killed in the first battle against a Spanish slaver. Captain Williams kept me on board because I was young and a good fighter. He dubbed me Cat, saying, "Ye will make a good fighter, won't ye, Cat? Now, fix that mainsail!" And I would nod and rush into the riggings.

Captain Williams had a strict set of rules on board the Scavenger. The crew was never to hurt a lady or children under the age of ten. Children ages eleven and up could either be recruited or dropped into random apprenticeships somewhere.

One day, we had made port about ten miles below my home village, so I asked for permission to go and see my mum. Captain Williams laughed and told me to be back by daylight. I nodded, and set off for home.

The closer I got to my house, the more careless I was. I never bothered staying in the shadows, thinking that nobody would be fool enough to be out on the streets at night. Instead, I ran straight to my mum's door and knocked. When she answered the door, I was shocked to see how much older she looked. After all, it had only been about eight months since I had last seen her.

-"Oh, Thomas! You're back!" she cried, and pulled me inside. "How's the ship-life treating you?"

-"Fairly well," I replied, looking around for a sign of Catherine, my younger sister. "Where's Catherine?"

Mum's eyes clouded with tears. "Oh, Thomas…it pains me to tell you this, but she died three months ago." The tears fell more rapidly now. "She died of influenza. An epidemic swept through the town and claimed more than one hundred lives. Now I am truly alone, all alone. Won't you come back and get away from piracy?"

My heart dropped. "Catherine's…dead?" I cried, sinking to my knees. "That's not right! I even had something for her!" I reached into my pocket and pulled out a carving of a coral tiger. "She can't be dead! Come on, where are you hiding her? Catherine! Catherine!!" I shouted, looking under the bed, behind the lamps, even inside a hatbox.

-"She's gone, Thomas," Mum sighed, and straightened up. "Now that everyone's gone, will you please stay with me?"

-"I have to do something to help you," I whispered, still fighting the tears that were threatening to spill over.

-"Oh, Thomas…" she reached over and hugged me. "I'll be fine. But if you die – it'll kill me."

Someone banged on the door. Mum started, gathered her wits, and shoved me under her bed. After demanding that I keep quiet, she went back to the door.

-"Coming," she mumbled. She trudged to the door and opened it.

-"Madame Barlow," a gruff voice barked. "I apologize for waking you up at such a terrible hour of the night, but my…informant said that they have reason to believe you are harboring pirates. Again, this is preposterous."

-"Pirates?" Mum gasped. "My husband was killed by pirates. Why would I hide my husband's murderers?"

-"Nonetheless, ma'am, I am under orders to search this house. I apologize, madam."

-"Oh, no trouble at all, Commodore Ross."

Commodore Ross! My heart skipped a beat. I began shuffling around – quietly – to see if I could possibly get up underneath the bed. My hand knocked against a piece of wood. Instead of making a loud thunking sound, the wood just fell outwards. There was a space just big enough for me to crawl through. While the soldiers filed inside, their boots clacking on the floor, I escaped to the outside. I dragged the board back into place and stood up.

-"You must be Thomas Barlow," a cold voice spat behind me. I whirled around. A British soldier was behind me. I recognized him from my early days in Fort Bayne.

-"Commodore Ross," I said weakly. "What are you doing out here?"

-"I believe the question is what are you doing out here. If you're out here because you're weeding your mother's garden at midnight – by the light of the moon – I guess that I have no reason to arrest you. Or," he grinned maliciously, "are you out here because you're a pirate trying to escape from the law?"

I was still staring at him in disbelief when the Commodore ordered me chained and thrown in prison.

I was still creating my plan when I heard the words firing squad mentioned. Hope rushed out of me like cockroaches before a flame. They're trying me as an adult!

When they shackled me by my feet to the wall and blindfolded me, I was still in disbelief. Executed by four of the boys I went to school with, and an old neighbor. How did I end up like this? To make matters worse, the blindfold slipped down, and I could see my murderers.

Luckily, Will, Gary, and James weren't very good shots. Jonathon hit me in the foot, and while that hurt, it was nothing compared to the pain that Adam, my favorite neighbor, caused. Since his bullet hit me just above the heart, I had to wait for my own heart to finish me off.

The last thing I was expecting was to be caught before I crashed onto the cobblestones. Someone ripped off my blindfold, and I gazed into my mother's face. This time, though, I knew it was for the last time. Everything I could see were shades of gray.

The sky was black, my blood was black, and my mom's face was light gray crossed with white tears.

-"How could I let this happen to you?" she was saying. Then the world went silent. It was like a giant switch had been thrown, cutting off the sound. Mum's lips were moving, but nothing was coming out.

-"I'll always love you," I tried to say. Something hovering over the wall caught my eye. It looked like a glowing white orb. "Adventure," I muttered. "Great adventure."

The fog swirled around me, creating familiar shapes and faces. Mum's face showed up several times, and Catherine's too. Captain Williams' was there, teeth clenched in preparation for battle. I was still examining the faces when I realized I wasn't alone in the room.

-"Hello, Thomas Barlow."

I turned around and found myself facing an old lady in a rocking chair. She could have been older then the ocean from all the wrinkles on her face.

-"Where am I?" I asked. "Why aren't I with my father? And Catherine?"

The lady laughed. "You haven't passed the test yet, dearie. Everyone must take the test. Now, come over here so I can have a look at you."

I approached her slowly, dreading getting close to her. There was a hint of fear in the air, and the closer I got to her, the stronger it became. When I was within snatching distance, the old woman laughed.

-"Very well, Thomas Barlow! I can see you're scared of me. What if I took a different form? Something more pleasing, perhaps?" She shifted into three forms in quick succession. I found myself facing my mother, my father, and then Catherine.

-"Catherine?"

-"It's not her, dearie," said the old woman's voice. It sounded strange coming out of Catherine's mouth. "It's only an illusion. Maybe I can explain it a little better. Now, let's take a look at your chart, shall we?" She snapped her fingers, and an enormous bag materialized out of the mist. She dug through it, eventually pulling out a yellowed scrap of paper.

-"Ah, here we are; Thomas Edward Barlow. Executed by the firing squad, I see. What a pity," she tutted, looking the paper over. "Happy to have his mother left alone, died violently, and…what's this? Died young, too. That's not good. I'm going to have you send you back as a spirit, dearie. Or as it is better known, a ghost." Catherine's doppelganger looked up at me with something like anger in her eyes. "Oh, why did you ever go back to your mum's?"

-"I wanted to see her again."

-"Very well, that's good. But I'm afraid you're a spirit from this point on. And not a very handsome spirit, mind you! As a rule of ghosthood, you must keep your death-mark. And yours…well, it's quite noticeable." She gestured to my chest, and I looked down. There were dark red bloodstains around my heart, and the stain went down to my boots. I cringed.

-"Will those always stay there?" I inquired, hoping to hear a no.

-"Yes, they will. Until you can fill up your soul-light," she chuckled, pointing to a hovering white orb above her. It was the same orb that had taken me to this room.

-"What's a soul-light?" I asked, completely confused by this time.

-"Never the matter, dearie," she chirped. "Just get your behind back to earth! You need to find Mrs. Hagsmire. You'll easily recognize her – she has a pair of knitting needles through her head, apparently put there by one of her husband's jealous lovers. Anyways, toodle-oo, dearie! I do so hope to see you again!"

-"Wait! No, I need to ask you something! Hey, hello!!" I called, but it was no use. I was sucked backwards out of the mist-room, and found myself back in the square where my execution had taken place. This time, though, it was the middle of the night.

How many days have passed since I left this place? I wondered, shakily standing up and looking around. And who the heck is Mrs. Hagsmire?

-"I'm Mrs. Hagsmire!" a voice barked. "Beware the flames of eternal fire!" she laughed. I looked beside me. A rather young-looking ghost-lady was standing next to me. She had two ghostly knitting needles through her head, and I tried not to look at the blood that was coating her face.

-"Was that a rhyme?" I asked nervously. She stared at me.

-"Cat's a stupid boy, doesn't know what I enjoy!" she cackled.

She isn't making any sense, I thought, backing slowly away.

-"I do too make sense! You're just on the fence!" Mrs. Hagsmire cried. "I'm here to teach you the rules, and they're not just for fools."

-"Very well," I conceded, hoping that if I agreed with her she'd stop creeping me out. "Let's hear these rules."

-"A ghost can only go once more where, living, he has gone before," she recited.

-"Got it. How many of these rules are there?"

-"As you shall soon see, rules are there three."

I nodded, and Mrs. Hagsmire continued with her wacky rhymes.

-"All those that died awake, their death mark none shall take," she said. "The dead can disappear at will; stay until they've had their fill."

After she recited her rules, she offered to stay with me for a while. Since it seemed like I didn't have a choice, I accepted. It was a big mistake.

-"What else is important about being a ghost?" I asked her once.

She thought it over for a while, then replied, "Your emotions influence the room. Spread the cheer, not the gloom."

One night, I was trying to climb a tree to get a better view of my house, and Mrs. Hagsmire decided to comment on it. (She had a comment for everything.)

-"Oh, but look at Cat, up a tree! You climbed it when you were three!"

-"I did not!" I growled. This lady was seriously getting on my nerves. "I climbed this tree when I was seven. I was waiting for my dad to come back from work. It was the first time I'd climbed it – and I thought I could see the whole world from up here." I stared across the street at Mum's house. Was it really only last week that I had come home?

-"Silly boy's out of his head. He's had too many cups of mead! You first climbed the tree when you were three; your mummy sat you there so you could see!"

Needless to say, I abandoned her pretty quickly.

I spent a few years on the Dark Scavenger before she sank in an awful hurricane. I manned (ghosted?) a dingy and managed to make my way back to New England. I never went out on a ship again, although I once tried to walk to the West Indies. I sunk to the bottom of the ocean. I never tried that again. Sharks circle the dead just as they circle the living.

Decades passed. The town changed and flourished, but still I stayed hidden, not wanting to make myself visible to anyone. Eventually, I learned I was in a place called Baynesville. Funny how the contractors used the ancient fort's name as a part of the town. I watched my mum's house torn down and rebuilt several times. Finally, in 1927, the house was in its last renovation stage. It looked like a miniature plantation house. I kept a close watch over it and made my decision to move into it before Christmas. I was tired of living outside and being rained upon. I wanted to live in a house again – despite the fact that it wasn't my house.

I chose a room on the second floor, three doors down from the staircase. I guessed that I could stay in the house because it was built on the same plot of land as my house once was. Therefore, I wasn't violating the only-once-before law or anything like that.

Needless to say, the Fowlers didn't appreciate my intrusion. There was something about the second floor they didn't like. As the years dragged on and my despair permeated the room, the Fowlers became more and more frightened of going to the second floor at night. They put a heavy padlock over my door and boarded up the windows to the outside. I was left in utter darkness and my misery grew.

It was then that a tragedy occurred in the Fowler household. The boy, Jacob, I believe his name was, who shared the bedroom next to mine, went crazy. He became depressed, and one cold night he jumped from his second-floor window in despair. He was paralyzed from the waist down from then on. After this incident, I tried to cheer myself up to keep the same thing from happening to Charlie, his younger brother. It didn't work.

By 1930, the Fowlers were desperately trying to sell their dream home. Many people came and looked at the house, but my presence drove them all away. It wasn't until 1951 that they found a couple that didn't run out the front door screaming after stepping inside the house.

Their names were Mr. and Mrs. Turner. They loved the house and weren't about to let a suicidal ghost, as Mrs. Fowler called me, ruin it for them.

Long story short, the Turners bought the house. The first thing they did was unlock my door and unboard my windows. The second they opened the door, Mrs. Turner screamed in horror. The dust was three inches thick on the floor, mold was growing on the wallpaper and ceiling, and there were dozens of dead flies lying on the windowsill. They decided that in order to make the house-ghost happy, they'd fix up the room as best they could.

And they did. They replaced the foggy windowpanes, repapered the walls, and scrubbed the floors with lemon-scented polish. I watched their activities from my corner, occasionally moving out of their way when they needed to get into that part of the room. I was amazed that they were doing all this for me, a 200-year-old ghost pirate who they had never met. My mood went up – I was actually happy for the first time in years. I even started to walk around the house, exploring my new home.

Sometimes the dark mood settled over me again, and I would do bad things to the Turners. I shoved plates off the table, blew out the fire, and overflowed the bathtubs when they weren't home. They took it all in stride, however, and continued living there.

On a dreary January day about a year after they moved in, I was in my room humming absently to myself. It was my 201st birthday. I had a wonderful view of the blizzard raging outside the window and had lit three of the candles Mrs. Turner had placed in my room. I was so wrapped up with my song that I didn't notice Mrs. Turner was in the doorway until she said something.

-"You're very young, aren't you?" she murmured, coming over to sit in front of me. "I've watched you. You do things only a teenager would think up. And those rats in the soup last week! Well!"

I blew out the candles. If there was no light, and I chose to stay invisible, only a shadowy mass could be seen. In light, you could only see me if I stayed still and you looked really hard.

-"Come on now, don't do that!" Mrs. Turner chuckled. "Tell me who you are. Why are you here? Are you angry with us?"

I was angry. She had invaded my little party. I spoke to another being for the first time in nearly one hundred years.

-"Yes! Yes, okay, I'm angry!" I shouted, jumping up and glaring at her. She didn't move. Of course. I was invisible, and I decided to stay that way. "I was shut up in here for decades! When you came along, I thought you'd leave me alone after you'd fixed up my room! I thought life would be better!! But now look at me!" I slumped back on the floor. "I'm nothing," I whimpered, choking back sobs.

-"I'm sorry," she sighed. "I didn't realize we'd upset you that much. I'm sure if you told me your story, I'd be able to make you happier. If you want me to, I'll even leave you alone forever. But please, I just want to hear your story. Let's start with your name."

I took a deep breath (even though I no longer breathed, letting air in often cleared my head) and began.

-"My name is Thomas Barlow. You'll be the first I've ever told my story to," I warned her, "so if anything scares you, tell me and I'll stop." She nodded her head. "I was born on January 19, 1751." A look of shock flitted across her face and I smiled.

As I told my story, the look on her face changed from a smile to a look of pure horror. When I told of nearly strangling to death by falling and getting caught upside down in the ratlines, she interrupted me.

-"Is that how you died?" she asked softly.

-"No, it's not!" I snapped. Up until then, I had remained invisible, but now I decided to show myself. "This is how I died!" I could hear Mrs. Hagsmire's rule echo though my head. "For all those who died awake, their death-mark none shall take. This is how I died."

Mrs. Turner cringed and looked away. "I'm…sorry," she faltered. "But that's – I mean, did that – how did you die?"

-"I'm getting to that part," I growled. "Let me finish." She didn't interrupt me again.

-"…and then they locked me up. I don't like passing through objects, so I stayed in my room until you released me. And that's where we are now," I concluded.

I could see it was hard for her to keep her eyes on my face. My death-mark was very prominent: a dark hole above my heart with bloodstains spreading to my feet.

-"That's…nice," she finally managed to choke out. "But you never saw your mother again? That's very sad."

-"Not really," I muttered. "I haven't really thought about her for years. I guess when you have all the time in the world, you don't think about the past – or the future – very much at all."

-"But that's not right!" she cried, and stood up. I saw her survey the room, her gaze finally resting on the cobwebs above the -blocked- "What would you say to coming downstairs and meeting my husband?"

I shrugged and jumped to my feet. "I suppose it would do me some good to get out of this room," I answered, and followed her downstairs.

Of course, being a ghost, I couldn't eat anything. But I could smell it. And it smelled amazing. Mrs. Turner kept trying to get me to try to eat the food, and eventually I gave in and tried to take a bite. If I licked it, I could almost taste it. It was even better than it smelled.

Mrs. Turner just smiled. "See what you can do when you put your mind to it, Thomas?"

-"Cat."

-"Pardon me?"

-"Call me Cat. Only my mum called me Thomas," I replied, taking another lick of the macaroni.

-"Very well, Cat it is. Now…let's introduce you to something called the radio."

For the first few months, I showed Mrs. Turner (or Rebecca, as she had asked me to call her) around the village of my childhood. Interestingly enough, the school building was built over where the stockades used to stand. Since the old buildings were gone and office buildings dominated, I sometimes walked into a building without realizing it. Mrs. Rebecca was always very enthusiastic. She said that I described everything so vividly she could see the buildings like they used to be.

They introduced me to the radio and, later, the television. I loved listening to the news and the sports readings. I read newspapers. The Turners took me to the movies several times – I didn't need a ticket to go in, and the movie theater was built where the old meeting house used to be, so I could attend the movies. The Star Wars movies were my favorite. I imagined Darth Vader as a pirate and several times I pretended I could use the Force. (Ghosts are naturally gifted with telekinetic powers, so I would move things around. Mr. Mark laughed at my antics and told me to perfect them, so I did.)

My favorite pastime, though, was taunting the paperboy. Every morning at 5:30, I would wait in the driveway for the boy to pass by. If he didn't throw the paper just right, I would chuck it back at him. Over the years I discovered that there were specific spots that you could hit him in that would make him squeak like a chipmunk. Eventually, the paperboy got tired of being hit and would deliver the paper to the front steps. I would still hit him occasionally, just for fun. I had to re-teach the lesson to every paperboy that came along – if you didn't throw the paper on the steps, it would hit you back in very uncomfortable places.

As the years passed, I watched Rebecca and Mark grow older. Rebecca brought a pair of kittens home once, and I fell in love with them. They could sense me, too, and really seemed to like me. One was a black-and-white longhair they named Sylvester, and the other was a calico that I named Patches. They lived with us for eighteen years before passing on. I was ecstatic that they did not return as ghosts. They deserved to go straight to the Beyond.

One day when the Turners were in their eighties, I was home alone with Mr. Mark while Rebecca went grocery shopping. He was downstairs making dinner in the kitchen, and I was upstairs reading The Orient Express. Books are persnickety towards ghosts – sometimes you can make them turn a page, and other times they slam shut and refuse to open. Still, I enjoyed reading them.

I was in the middle of chapter twelve when I heard Mr. Mark shout. I dropped the book and dropped through the floor. I don't like going through things, but sometimes you've gotta do what you've gotta do.

I found Mark sprawled on the kitchen floor, unconscious. When I knelt down next to him, I could tell that something was wrong. His heart was going crazy.

I lifted a pencil from the table by telekinesis, and used it to dial 9-1-1 on the phone and put it on speaker.

-"Hello, this is 911, what is your emergency?"

-"Yes…my friend Mark Turner," I warbled, trying to sound like an anxious neighbor of theirs. "There's something wrong with him. He's on the floor in the kitchen and is unresponsive." I thought that sounded like a nice word – unresponsive.

-"What is your address, and how old is Mr. Turner?" The microphone warped the voice so much that I couldn't tell whether a man or a woman had answered my call.

-"Um…he's eighty-seven, and lives at 1217 Rockwood Lane in Baynesville. Please, hurry!" I added desperately. "I don't want him to die!"

-"An ambulance is en route. Please stay on the phone."

I swore under my breath and dropped back down to next to Mr. Mark, willing his eyes to open.

-"Cat?" he croaked. I dropped the phone on the linoleum floor and it shattered. Oops.

-"Hold on, Mr. Mark! The person on the phone said they were sending an ambulance!" I pleaded.

-"No…time. Can you help?" he wheezed.

I shuddered. "You know I can't do that," I scolded. "I've told you what it feels like! I can't do that!! It would…I can't. It might kill you," I whimpered.

You see, only really desperate ghosts possess humans. Imagine cutting open a corpse and trying to crawl inside. That's what possessing a body feels like. It's not a pleasant experience.

-"Ah. Not…a chance. Heart…attack. Rebecca. Where's…Becky?"

-"She's at the store. She'll be here soon," I replied. The sirens were getting closer.

-"No…time. So sorry, Becky. So…sorry." His eyes rolled back in his head and he fell still.

-"No!!" I shrieked. "Fifty years, old man?! You're not that old!! You were…you were…" I gulped. "You were like a father to me."

The sirens were right outside the house now. I made myself invisible. No need for the paramedics to arrive and find a ghost hovering over the deceased.

Mark Daniel Turner did not become a ghost. He went straight to the Beyond – to Heaven, you might say. I was happy for him. He wouldn't have to endure the daily torment that I did. Every day on Earth was a strain to me. And my soul-light was a constant reminder of how long that time would be.

The worst part was when Rebecca came home.

-"I'm home!" she sang, stepping through the door. "And I got a pirate movie, Thomas! It's called…Child, why are you crying?" Her voice rose to a hysterical pitch. "Where's Mark?!"

-"He's…he's gone," I sobbed, still kneeling on the floor. "Gone…and it's my fault!"

-"Thomas…what did you do?!"

-"I couldn't force myself to save him!" I howled. "I had the chance – but I couldn't do it!"

-"Oh, Thomas," Rebecca sighed. She tried to kneel next to me, but her knees gave out and she sat in a chair instead. "We were going to break the news to you tomorrow. Mark had gotten too fragile for me to handle alone. We were going to move into the Sunny Acres Nursing Home next month. I made sure that it was someplace you could visit, too. But now that Mark –" Rebecca broke off and began to bawl.

I could only watch as the strong-willed woman I had known for fifty years completely broke down. Belatedly, I realized how much they had loved each other.

-"Wait!" Rebecca shouted, startling me out of my thoughts. "Tell me – did Mark become a ghost?"

I squirmed under her desperate stare. "No, I'm afraid not," I said at last. "He was – pardon me – old, had lived a long and happy life, and died naturally. As natural as a heart attack is, that is. If one is to become a ghost, they have to meet two or more of the requirements, so to speak. They must die young, die violently, and die unhappily. I died violently and young; that's why I became a ghost."

Mrs. Turner was crestfallen. "I'm going to the hospital now, Thomas," she stated. "I need to see him one more time. Tell me – what were his last words?"

-"He said, 'Rebecca…so sorry. So sorry, Becky,' I believe. I know he said the words 'sorry' and 'Becky' a lot," I reported.

-"Becky?" she mused. "He hasn't said that in years…. I'll see you later, Thomas." She left the house in tears. I stared sadly at the wall, and wondered how my happy life could have become a shambles so quickly.

She decided to lease the house instead of selling it; to sell it would be an insult to Mark's memory, she declared. She rented it to a single mother who had two teenage kids. After giving them strict instructions not to mess with my room – "It has sentimental value," she said – she handed over the keys. Rebecca did not mention me.

Two days after the Heaths moved in, the teenagers, named Maria and Chris, decided to check out my room. I thought they were just curious, so I let them come in. Mistake number one.

-"Dude, check out this book!" Chris shouted, grabbing my favorite book, Isle of Swords, off the shelf. He tossed it into the air and it landed on the floor with a thud. He stomped on it, and I winced. He then began using the pages to make origami cranes.

Maria was exploring the bottled ships mounted on the walls. She picked up one, a model of the Santa Maria, slammed it to the floor. "Oops!" she giggled. "I broke my namesake! Silly me!"

By this time, Chris had discovered the swords on the wall above the bookshelf. He wasted no time in getting one down, and proceeded to play with it like a lightsaber.

-"Zwing! Swish! Oooing! Ooing! Whoosh!" he cried, swinging it back and forth and nearly decapitating his sister. He began to breathe in a way that was reminiscent of pig snorting. "Luke…I'm your father!" he shrieked.

-"No, you're not!" Maria cackled. "My father's not a robotic freak!" She grabbed the cutlass from Chris and almost sliced his hand off in the process.

By now, I was furious.

-"Get out!" I bellowed, yanking the sword from Maria. Both of them stared at the sword hovering in midair.

-"What on earth…?" Chris started. I brought the cutlass down between them.

-"Let's get out of here!" Maria screamed.

-"Yes…hurry," I snarled. "You'll want to get out of here before I rain fire down upon your heads!" I flashed in and out of visibility, and Maria and Chris scrambled to get out of the room. They tumbled down the stairs and ran screaming into the kitchen.

I laughed and settled back in my hammock, positive that nobody in the family would ever bother me again.

Mistake number two.

Mistake number three.

Almost two months after the first incident, I was reading a book about panthers when three black vans pulled into the driveway. The letters 'TAPS' were emblazoned on the side of each one. My heart sank.

The Atlantic Paranormal Society had been called.

I had watched Ghost Hunters since their debut on television. Several times I had begged the Turners to change the channel – the ghosts they were trying to get to communicate with them were actually demons. And I could see them. Other times, I laughed at the foolishly-misled TAPS team. They were trying to communicate with ghosts of mute people, hobos who had a grudge against the living, and stray animals. It was pretty funny. I always commented on how I would treat the Ghost Hunters, were they to come to my house. Mark and Rebecca would laugh, and Mark said that he'd send in an application one day, just so I could wreak havoc on their team. It never happened, though. He died before he could put in the form.

My frown turned into a vicious grin. If the TAPS team was coming after me, they were going to be in for one heck of a surprise. This time, the ghost would fight back, and he would stop at nothing. And they wouldn't get anything on tape.

I skipped downstairs to listen in on the team and hear what Marcia Heath had to say about me.

-"When we moved into the house, Rebecca Turner said nothing about there being a malicious presence in this house. That thing upstairs scared the shizzle out of my children!" Mrs. Heath was saying. I growled. Obviously, Chris had been lying. And I was not a thing!

-"'Shizzle'?" Chris moaned. "Mom, don't say words like that. It's embarrassing."

Jason, the overweight, bald leader of the TAPS team, concealed a grin behind his hand. "Interesting," he sputtered.

Grant, a skinny guy with a hat on, elbowed Jason in the ribs and continued. "Did the ghost say anything to you?"

Uh, dude. That was two whole months ago. How am I supposed to remember that far back?" Chris complained. I wanted to punch him. Or maybe throw a chair at him.

Maria took over before I could lift a hand. "He told us to get out, and that if we didn't, he'd pour lead on our faces or something like that."

I snickered, and Jason glanced towards the stairs. I stopped.

-"Well, shall we see where this ghost hangs out?" Jason asked. He was practically salivating with eagerness. I dashed back up the stairs and sat in my hammock, waiting.

The TAPS team stepped into my room a few minutes later, trailed by an anxious Mrs. Heath and her devil children.

-"Wow, this is some place," Grant whistled. "Did you do this, Mrs. Heath?"

-"No, it's hideous. Mrs. Turner told us not to mess with this room. I offered to put all the stuff in storage for her, but she turned red and demanded that we keep out of the room altogether. She hinted that a creature was hiding out in here, but I thought it was a mention of her husband. He died on the kitchen floor, did you know that?" Mrs. Heath babbled.

I began to chant "Ring Around the Rosie" under my breath. Nothing unsettles a person more than a song about the plague.

Grant glanced at my hammock, which was rocking slightly from side to side.

-"May we have control of the house, Mrs. Heath?" he inquired, trying to restrain the excitement that was burbling up inside him. "It's almost dark, and that's when ghosts are more active. We'll show you the evidence in about two days, all right?"

Marcia couldn't hand over the keys fast enough. "Here! We'll be in the Marriott Hotel if you need us. Please, hesitate to call." She grabbed Maria and Chris and yanked them out of the house and down to the car.

I followed the TAPS members back down to the dining room, where three other team members and four camera men were waiting. Grant filled them in on the situation, and then they all scattered to set up the equipment.

Two cameras – one heat-sensitive – were placed in my room. There was a camera at the end of the hall, and another one in the kitchen. The team was armed with voice recorders, EMF detectors, and walkie-talkies. I sat back and watched. This was going to be a night no one associated with TAPS would ever forget.

I decided to spend the first three hours in my room – after all, that was the most haunted place in the house. Sure enough, I didn't have to wait long before Grant and Michelle, a blond girl with too much eyeliner, showed up at my door.

-"Grant and Michelle, EMF Session in the Pirate Room," Grant declared, placing a digital voice recorder upright on my dresser.

-"How old are you?" Michelle asked, wandering slowly around the room. "Why are you here?"

I stepped up to the recorder and whispered into it. If they were to play the recording, it would sound like a bunch of garbled gibberish. But the Ghost Hunters aren't deterred by gibberish; they'd find something to make out of the random sounds.

The humans didn't hear me.

-"How long have you been here?" Michelle tried again. "Did you have a love of pirates? Are you Mark Turner?"

I let a faint shimmer of myself appear as I rocked the hammock back and forth. Neither of them noticed. Idiots.

Grant picked up a rock from my dresser and threw it into a dark corner.

Can you do that?" he taunted. "Show us what you can do."

I levitated the rock to eye level, and hesitated. I couldn't chuck it too hard, or I'd kill the poor man. If I threw it too soft, I wouldn't hurt him. Eventually, I decided that I would just have to throw it at medium-strength and hope he wouldn't die.

The rock flew through the air and hit Grant on the nose. I winced as I heard it crack and his nose began to bleed.

Grant let out a string of curses far nastier than anything I'd ever say in front of a lady. Michelle turned from the bottled ships that she was examining again.

-"What happened?"

-"That little….that thing broke my nose!" Grant roared, holding his sleeve to his face. It was already soaked through.

-"I…am not…a thing," I moaned, making my voice low and gravelly. "You…invaded my room. What else…was I supposed…to do?"

Michelle screamed (I guess she was new to the team) and ran out of the room. Grant stood his ground.

-"What do you want?" he shouted at the ceiling, his voice high and nasal. "Why'd you hurt me?"

By sneaking around behind him, I was able to yank the hood of his jacket and hold him down.

-"I want you to get out and stop asking stupid questions," I hissed in his ear. "I'm not a foreigner, and I'm not a child! So stop treating me like this!"

Grant took off like a rocket when I let go of his jacket, leaving the camera man and the DVR behind. As the camera man hurried off, I sauntered over to the recorder.

-"Grant, Michelle, and The Ghost DVR session end," I sighed, and flipped the tape of. Time to wreak havoc on the other members of the team. By the time I was done with them, they would be foaming at the mouth.

-"Take your stuff and leave!"

Amy jumped off the couch and pointed her flashlight at me. The EMF sitting on the coffee table in front of her went crazy. Jason just stared in my general direction.

-"So, you finally decided to show your face."

-"Better my face than your ugly mug," I retorted, crossing my arms. They still couldn't see me, but it's hard to talk without moving your arms. Try it sometime.

-"Touché. Anyways, you're going to tell us what we need to know, or else we won't leave," Jason threatened.

-"The show's only an hour long, and the time limit is one night, stupid! Besides, why should I tell you anything? You keep insulting me." I sighed and began to circle him, making myself just a slight shimmer in the air.

Jason glanced at Amy, who shrugged. Turning back to me, he said, "Well, you're a feisty one, aren't you? How about we start with your age?"

-"There's no way I'm doing that," I growled.

-"How about a battle of wits, then? If I can guess just who and what you are, you'll tell me about yourself. What say you to that?" Jason asked.

-"First of all, I always refuse to fight an unarmed opponent. Second, who do you think you are, coming in and demanding things of me? I could erase your film and drain all your batteries in an instant. Why should I tell you anything?" I replied, sitting down on the fireplace.

-"You're a piece of work, ghost, I'll give you that. But why are you staying here?" Jason taunted. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

-"I consider trying to make your brain explode something to do."

-"I bet you're over five hundred years old," Jason laughed.

-"I'm not that old, you numbskull!" I cried. "You're just trying to goad me into revealing more about myself! Well, it won't work! Say bye-bye to your precious video footage!" I lunged towards the camera man and plunged my hand into the camera. I ran my fingers along the bottom of the disk, effectively wiping it clean. Then I broke it in half. I turned my attention to the digital camera sitting on the coffee table; I flicked my hand and drained the batteries of their charge.

Jason stared at me, dumbfounded. "How on earth do you know so much about technology?" he managed to stammer.

-"I'm dead, not stupid. I know many other things besides. Now, are you going to leave, or do I have to erase a few more tapes?" I warned.

Amy had long ago fled, and the cameraman had vanished after I broke his tape, and I could tell that Jason wanted to join them. So I decided to help him on his way.

I somehow managed to lift Jason over my head and fling him down the hallway. He landed heavily, but scrambled to his feet and sprinted back to the vans.

-"And don't come back!" I shouted. I watched my soul-light flicker and drop a level.

No matter. I had plenty of time left to fill it up. I would get out of this world eventually.

I drifted back upstairs to my room to wait. It was only one a.m. The Ghost Hunters would be back.

The final battle was about to begin.

Grant was the first through the door. A white bandage wound around the middle of his face, keeping the blood from running into his mouth. It was already completely bloody. He was holding a thermal imaging camera and was waving it around.

-"Just wait until I get my hands on you, you dirty little…" Grant mumbled, moving towards the dresser so the others could enter the room. "You're toast."

-"You can't get your hands on him," Amy scolded. "He's a ghost! Plus, he's liable to body slam you like he did to Jason!"

-"This is spooky," Michelle whispered. "What if the ghost is like, really angry at us? Could it kill us?"

-"First of all," I sighed, "I'm not an 'it' and I have a name. Please call me Cat." I was sitting in my hammock, watching the people come in.

-"It's alive!" Michelle shrieked. She grabbed a short Asian guy, the fifth member of TAPS, whose name I believe was Kim, and clung on to him for dear life.

-"Of course it's alive!" Jason snarled. "It's alive, and it's going to pay!"

-"Ahem! Name!" I growled.

-"Arg! Okay! You're going to pay, Cat!" he snapped. His eyes searched the room. "As soon as I can find you…"

-"Why don't you look…right…here!" I cried, leaping behind him and pulling his belt out. His pants fell to the floor, and Michelle screamed again. Jason let out a thunderous roar and began spouting obscenities. Amy led Michelle out of the room, leaving me to face the three male members of TAPS.

I created a maelstrom of loose papers and some of the bottled ships. It whirled around the TAPS members, obstructing their vision and giving them a couple dozen paper cuts.

Grant was spinning around wildly, trying to find the distinct frozen-signature of a ghost on the thermal. Jason was walking around with the EMF in one hand, trying to get a reading, and holding up his pants with the other. Only Kim remained calm, surveying the room slowly. He eventually spotted me atop my fish tank, directing the flow of papers.

-"Hello, Cat," he said quietly. "Would you mind coming over here for a minute?"

I slipped off the tank and walked towards him. "You're the first one who's been nice. Grant threw things at me and Jason insulted me. How come you're so nice?"

-"I have a ghost of my own," he replied. "Now, if you'll get their attention, I'll turn off the cameras and we'll go downstairs."

-"Sounds reasonable." I turned around and shouted, "HEY! IDIOTS!"

Grant and Jason whirled around, their eyes spitting fire.

-"Kim, you got it!" Jason crowed. He lumbered towards us with his EMF outstretched. "I see a silvery shape, and look – the EMF's going insane!"

-"If you two would be quiet, I'll tell you something." Kim waited until both men had shut up before continuing. "Cat has agreed to talk with us if we turn off the cameras. We can leave the DMV equipment on."

-"And I'll show myself if you want," I chimed in. "Anything to scare you."

-"Well….okay," Grant conceded. He dismissed the cameramen and we went downstairs. After the three men had settled on the couch, I sat on the fireplace.

-"Are you guys ready? I must warn you, I'm not all that pretty." They nodded. "Okay, you asked for it." I let myself become fully visible.

Grant looked away and Jason shuddered. Only Kim remained unfazed.

-"Very prominent death-mark, Cat," he murmured. I looked at him suspiciously.

-"I have a ghost," he reminded me.

-"Oh. Well. Anyways, what did you guys wants from me? I've seen your show on television. You're not very good ghost hunters. You're often talking to empty air."

-By now, Grant had recovered from the sight of the bloodstain on my shirt. "How old are you? You've been avoiding that question all night."

-"I avoided it because you'd guess what I was and how I died, but I guess it doesn't matter anymore. I'm two hundred and forty-eight years old."

Jason did a double-take. "Then…I'm guessing you're…a pirate?"

I nodded. "Executed at age sixteen by the firing squad," I confirmed. "Named Thomas Barlow at birth and renamed Cat by Captain Mason Williams. Served on board the ship for six years before my death."

-"Williams?" Kim gasped. He looked at me with new interest.

-"That's right. Anyways, long story short, the Turners adopted me and made my room like it is. For fifty-seven years, everything was great. We watched movies – Star Wars is my favorite – watched television, and read books. I helped Mrs. Turner in the kitchen, and we did loads of other stuff together. Then Mr. Mark had a heart attack and died. Rebecca fell apart, moved in with her sister, and rented this house out to the Heaths. She gave them strict instructions to leave me alone, but Maria and Chris ignored them. Chris destroyed my favorite book, and Maria broke several of my bottled ships. So I forced them out of my room."

Jason stared at me for a few minutes before speaking. "So, I'm guessing you've been behind all the rumors in this place, right? Back in the '20's, you paralyzed a young boy, didn't you?"

-"I did not!" I snarled. "He jumped out the window! It wasn't my fault! I was so depressed that it made him depressed. So he jumped. Watching the kid jump out of the window made me even more depressed. I did try to catch him, you know. But I'm a ghost. I didn't exactly know how to get around the whole 'things-pass-through-me' thing back then. I had never tried to catch a living being before. Mrs. Fowler had her husband padlock me in my room. Wouldn't you have felt depressed too?"

Kim decided to change the subject. "Do you know where we can find Rebecca Turner?" he asked. "It'd look great if we had her testimony to add to the show. You're the first ghost that's ever cooperated."

-"Sure," I replied, and gave him her sister's address. "I've got something else to show you, too."

I led them back upstairs to my room, and told them to open my trunk. Grant did, and pulled out three photo albums.

-"What's this?" he muttered, thumbing through one.

-"Pictures. Look in the blue book, and make a copy of the first picture in the book."

Grant opened the blue book. Inside was a picture of my last birthday party. I was standing between Mr. Mark and Rebecca, clear as day. The next picture was of my birthday cake, which said 'Happy 248, Cat!' and had a replica of the Jolly Roger on it. Kim reached over and pulled out the top picture.

-"This'll go very well on our show. I'll make sure to have the techs blur it up a bit. I'll also be sure to show your father how grown-up you are." He slipped the picture into his pocket and winked.

-"My father?!" I shouted, jumping towards him. "Are you saying he's a ghost?!"

Jason and Grant exchanged a glance and left the room, taking the DVR with them.

-"That's exactly what I'm saying," Kim said, still grinning. "He told me he died violently and unhappily, and that's why he's a ghost."

I sank to the floor. He's alive. But why didn't he seek me out? Where does he live? More questions whirled around my brain, but I was fully preoccupied with one: How come he never came to see us?

-"Did…did he ever mention me?" I stammered, staring up at Kim. "Has he said anything about his family?"

-"He once said that he had a wife and kid to get home to, but then he started rambling on about something called a soul-light. Any idea what that might be?"

-"It's the thing that keeps ghosts on earth. Picture it as a crystal orb. When you first become a ghost, that orb is as dark as a cannonball. If you do good deeds, your soul-light fills up with a wonderful white light. When people say that ghosts are white orbs, it's because they've seen a soul-light," I replied. "Not many people can see them."

-"What happens if you do bad things?" Kim pressed.

I frowned. "Well, it depends. If you've already got some light in your orb, it will drop down depending on how severe the bad thing was. If you have no light, the orb fills up with red light. If it fills up to the top…you get taken away to...the place Below.. Your stay on earth is over."

Kim shuddered and looked at the fire. "Am I right in guessing that when your soul-light is all white, you go 'upstairs'?" I nodded. "Can I see yours?"

I hesitated. Soul-lights were private things. The humans who could see them were normally extremely observant. "Okay, but not comments!"

My soul-light lit up the room when I revealed it. Kim was dazzled beyond belief. He stood still and stared at it. I looked at it as well. It was maybe two-thirds of the way full. Not much time left for me.

-"Do you want to see your father?" Kim had recovered, and was staring intensely at me.

-"Sure. It doesn't matter where you live; if my father is there, I can go. Although, I may have to take an alternate route. Rules, you know."

-"Rules?" Kim arched his eyebrows.

-"Oh, no! You're not getting any more out of me! The rules are only to be known by the ghosts! I shouldn't have told you about the soul-light, but I did. My orb dropped a little because of that. These are private matters. Now, shouldn't you go out with your team and get back to headquarters? Isn't it time for the analyzing evidence or something? Tomorrow you'll come back and reveal my existence to the Heaths. I might as well enjoy my last day of peace. Lovely," I murmured.

-"Very well. Thank you, Cat Barlow, for telling me this. You're the first ghost we've ever encountered that actually communicated with us. I promise I'll do everything in my power to prevent you from becoming a novelty. Of course, you could probably fill up that soul-light of yours petty fast helping out in a museum!" Kim laughed. I threw a pillow at his head, but he dodged it and started downstairs.

-"This is it," I muttered. "I'll never have another night like this. Serenity is a thing of the past." I glanced at my soul-light, which was hovering beside my shoulder. "How much longer will I have on earth? I want to go back to my mother! I want to see Catherine and Captain Williams! Oh, why am I still stuck on this miserable planet?"

A shooting star fell past my -blocked- "I wish I was really and truly dead," I sighed. The star flashed once before disappearing below the horizon.

-"Your time is not yet up, Thomas."

I whirled around. There was a white-clad lady in my doorway. She had a messenger bag on her shoulder.

-"Who're you?" I stammered, backing up. "And how do you know who I am?"

-"Thomas Barlow, I am here with a message. Only once may a Being send a message from the Beyond; you must be really important." As the lady turned around and began to dig through her bag, I saw that she had a pair of large white wings.

-"Are…are you an angel?"

-"An Angel from the Beyond. The Reapers – nasty, disgusting creatures – tried to apprehend me as I came here. Here is your message." She handed me a shimmering silver envelope. I carefully pried it open and took out the message.

My Dear Thomas, the letter began. I gasped. The handwriting was unmistakable, even after two hundred years.

I hope this letter finds you safe. I've been looking for you for centuries, it seems. Eventually, I checked the boulder that sits in the plains beyond the city. Your name was there among those listed as ghosts. Now that I know where you are, I'm writing.

You're the only one Catherine still asks for. She doesn't remember her father. She was only two when he left, remember? Did you know that your father is a ghost as well? Have you found him? Give him my love as well.

-"Am I allowed to send something back? My mum asked me to," I whispered. I was still clutching the letter. It smelled wonderful.

-"If you wish it. But it counts as your one letter from the Beyond. Choose wisely," she replied.

I was torn. "Not now," I finally said. "She's going to wait for me. I'll see her soon."

-"Sooner than you think, Thomas Barlow," the angel sang. She flicked her hand and my soul-light rose a few levels. "Your mother sent me with some of her happiness so I could raise your level. You only have a little bit to go. Farewell, Thomas Barlow!" Before I could reply, she burst into a shower of sparks and streaked through the ceiling.

-"Thanks," I whispered, and turned back to the -blocked- TAPS would be back tomorrow, and I wanted to see if they had managed to catch me on tape.

-"Thank goodness! We've been here for an hour already, and I've been scared out of my wits! I kept hearing noises!" she babbled.

I was watching the scene from my window ledge, and jumped down to land beside Kim. I chose to remain invisible. No use scaring Mrs. Heath…yet.

-"She was being haunted by her kids," I muttered in his ear. "They're inside rearranging the kitchen cabinets. More things they're trying to pin on me!"

To his eternal credit, Kim didn't even blink. He nodded slightly, though, so I knew I'd been heard.

Marcia Heath escorted them quickly to the dining room. "Please, set up the stuff in here," she encouraged. "It's the only table big enough."

After Grant had assembled everything, he sat down next to Jason.

-"Ma'am," he began, "this is a very awkward situation. We did discover evidence of a ghost here…and he has one request: to leave him in peace. Now, I'm going to show you the thermal we managed to capture of him. He's the purplish-blue shape. Blue means cold, red means hot. Watch closely." He leaned over and pressed a button on the DVD player.

A green-tinted version of my room appeared on the screen. The camera flashed back and forth – this must have been shot by Grant when he was spinning around my room – and Grant froze the picture. A blue shape was on the screen.

-"This is your ghost," Jason rumbled. "If you want to meet him, I'm sure he's in this room right now. Just ask for him."

Marcia Heath looked terrified. "You…you want me to talk to the ghost that frightened my children? It's not human!"

-"I am too human!" I retorted. "I'm as human as you or Maria or Chris."

Mrs. Heath screamed and jumped out of her chair. "It's alive!"

-"No, I'm dead," I sighed.

-"Way to go, Cat," Grant groaned. "The poor woman's going to hurt herself."

-"Well, what was I supposed to do?" I asked. "Show myself? She would have had a heart attack."

By then, Kim had calmed Mrs. Heath down, and she had recovered enough to sit back in her chair.

-"You're…you're a ghost," she stammered. "And you're talking."

-"Yes. I'm tired of people pointing that out! I'm dead? Great. I'm a ghost? No, really? Ah! It can talk?! Yep. Anything else you'd like to comment on?" I snapped.

Mrs. Heath whimpered and shook her head. Kim glared at me.

-"Cat, you're coming home with me today," he said. "I'll introduce you to my ghost. Maybe you'll fill up your soul-light as well."

Mrs. Heath gasped. "You're seriously taking him away? Oh, thank you!" she cried, shaking Kim's hand. "Thank you, thank you!"

Kim brushed her off. "He'll probably be back," he warned. "I'm going to take him to Rebecca Turner's house first, and ask why she didn't tell you about the ghost."

-"I'm curious as to why you never read into the history of this house," Grant commented. "It has a pretty dark story connected to it."

-"I didn't care. We'd had our sights set on this house for years, so when it went on the market it was like a dream come true," she explained. "Maria tried to dissuade me and showed me the story about Benji Fowler, but I thought he was only a disturbed little boy. And disturbed little boys often do jump out their windows. My brother did. He survived."

The TAPS team said their goodbyes and walked to their van. I followed them.

-"I won't be able to go into the house with you," I warned. "I've never stepped foot on that land. But if you can get Rebecca to come across the street to Myer's Park, I'll wait there for you."

-"Can you fly?" Grant asked.

-"Not technically; I can float, though. I can hold on to your truck as you drive. If you take a route I'm not familiar with, I'll slam into a wall and have to take the long way around. Either way, I'll meet you in the park."

-"Mrs. Turner! Stop!" the policeman yelled. "You're going to cause an accident!"

-"Rebecca, please listen to the nice man!" her sister trilled.

-"Mrs. Turner!"

-I hopped out of the fountain just in time to see the cop take Rebecca down with a flying tackle. She hit him back, and the two rolled on the grass, exchanging some serious punches. Grant and Jason somehow managed to pull them apart without incurring serious injuries.

The policeman was the first to recover. "Geez, lady," he panted. "Where'd you learn that?"

-"I taught ninjitsu for several decades," she retorted, "and I enjoy watching WWE." Ignoring the cop's look of amazement, she turned to Jason and Grant.

-"Where's Thomas?" she demanded.

-"He's somewhere!" Jason shouted. "He's a ghost; how should I know where he is?"

-"I'm here, Rebecca," I whispered in her ear, "but I ask that you send your sister and the policeman away. I don't want more people to learn of my existence just yet."

Rebecca nodded vigorously, and then faced the cop again. "I'm sorry for causing so much trouble, officer," she cooed, "but I get overexcited. It won't happen again, I promise."

The policeman stared suspiciously at her, but finally let her off with a warning. He then escorted her sister back across the street.

-"Whew," I breathed, slipping into view.

-"Thomas!" she squealed, and air-hugged me. "Oh, I've missed you! What have you been up to?" Her gaze drifted to the top of the fountain. "Did you put that dog up there?" The Chihuahua was still whimpering on top of the fountain. I shrugged and placed it on the ground.

-"Pardon me, madam," Kim intervened, "but can I ask you a few questions about Cat here?"

Rebecca eyed the Ghost Hunters skeptically. "I know you," she said at last. "You're those irritating ghost-guys! What do you want with me? I see you've already evicted Thomas from his house."

-"No, ma'am. Cat followed us here quite willingly. He told us where to find you. He's agreed to come and do a show for us," Jason replied.

-"Well, if Thomas trusts you, I suppose it's all right. What do you want to know?"

-"We would like to know why you bought the house even after hearing the stories. The house had been on the market for twenty years; you were the first to show an interest in actually buying the house," Grant explained.

-"Well, we really wanted a house, and it was a nice house. Not to mention the fact that it was really cheap. Oh, it was a beautiful house! The only flaw when we toured it was Thomas's room...it had been boarded over and padlocked shut…"

-"Goodbye, Rebecca," I choked out. "I may never see you again in this life."

-"Don't you worry, Thomas. I can look after myself. If you do leave before I see you again, look after Mark for me, will you?" She was nearly in tears as she air-hugged me again. "Maybe when I see you again, that –" she pointed to my death-mark, "– will be gone. Now, hurry up! You don't want to keep your father waiting!"

-She kept waving as I followed the TAPS team to the truck and climbed on the roof.

-"Goodbye, Rebecca!!" I shouted, and bowed to her. "I'll be sure to tell Mr. Mark what you said!"

As the van turned a corner, Rebecca yelled, "Goodbye, Cat! I love you!"

I smiled and relaxed as we drove away on the back roads. I had drawn a route on the map Kim had so he knew which roads I could go on without being stopped by a wall.

Kim turned to me and grinned. "Now," he began, "your father is a senile old ghost. All he does is try to drink my supply of alcoholic beverages. He often goes off on a tangent about his old life. Frankly, I'm not sure if he knows that I exist! He's always visible, and rarely moves from the broom closet. I believe he thinks he's still on a pirate ship. Maybe you can talk some sense into him. I'll be out here. Good luck." Kim unlocked the door and sat down on the porch swing.

I hesitated. I hadn't thought about my father for decades. I couldn't even picture his face anymore. Mom's was there, though, and Catherine's as well, but Dad had been out of the picture for much, much longer. I took a deep breath and walked inside.

The interior of the house was tidy, so unlike the bachelor pad I was expecting. It took me a few minutes to figure out where the broom closet was, but I eventually got my bearings.

Before I twisted the knob, I listened for a minute. From inside the closet came a string of angry mutterings. I decided to risk it and opened the door.

-"What do you want now?" my father said irritably. He was hunched on the floor desperately trying to lick a puddle of dark amber liquid.

I said nothing, but stared at him. He looked exactly the same. His death-mark was nowhere to be seen.

-"Well?" he demanded, finally turning around. "Are you – oh, gods above." He gasped and stared up at me. "Am I dreaming?"

-"No, dad." I swallowed. "You're not dreaming. It's really me. In the flesh – er, ghost-flesh?"

-"Ectoplasm." Dad stared at me some more, his gaze dropping from my face to my chest. "Oh, Thomas. Were you killed on board the ship, too?"

I shook my head, and something snapped between us.

-"Thomas!" he shouted, jumping up to hug me.

-"Dad!" I cried, and ran towards him.

We were still babbling incoherently when Kim appeared in the doorway.

-"I see you've managed to talk some sense into him," he noticed.

-"Go away!" Dad yelled. He made a fist and went to punch Kim. I grabbed his wrist.

-"Dad, stop. He's a living human; you're a ghost. You can't hurt him."

-"I beg to differ, Cat," Kim chuckled. "You really did a number on Jason and Grant."

-"I threw a rock at Grant, and levitated Jason across the room. I didn't actually punch them!" I sighed.

Dad stared at both of us. "You two know each other?! For how long?!"

-"Just a few days; calm down. Dad, let me see your soul-light!"

He glared at me. "Only if your friend leaves."

Kim sauntered off to the kitchen.

-"Okay." The familiar ball of light formed at his shoulder. "Why'd you want to see it?"

His orb was about an inch below the top. "Dad, you're almost done. You need to save a few people; then you can go and see Mum. I'll join you when I've got mine filled up," I said excitedly.

-"No. I don't want to go alone. That creepy old lady will come for me! Besides, I want to talk with you for a while, and I also demand an explanation. Why is there blood on your shirt?"

-"It's my death-mark, dad. When you die it becomes a part of you," I replied, thoroughly puzzled. "Don't you have one?"

-"Of course I do. Remember, the guy cracked me over the head with his stick. It shattered my skull. That's why I keep my bandana on. But tell me – how did you die?" he pressed.

-"Firing squad," I whispered. "We anchored in Daleport, and Captain Declan let me go and see Mum. Commodore Ross followed me and had me executed three days later by the firing squad. Do you remember Adam, our neighbor?" I asked.

Dad's eyes brightened. "Of course I do! He built my store. Very good friends, we were."

-"He's the one who fired the bullet that killed me."

-"Oh." Dad studied the wall next to him. "I'm sorry."

-"Don't be. It's not your fault I died. Now, we need to find some way to join Mum and Catherine. Any ideas?"

-"We could go around rescuing people who are drowning and those who are in front of stampeding horses!" Dad offered.

-"There aren't too many horse stampedes around nowadays, Dad," I corrected, "but maybe we can save the elderly from becoming road kill."

-"Road kill?"

I hit myself on the head. "Oh, right. How long have you been in this closet?"

-"Nigh on thirty years. Before that this was a lovely forest. Then these big yellow monsters ripped it all up and I moved into this house. But if I have to guess, I'd say that I've probably been in this spot for a hundred years or more," he replied.

We were talking about time when Kim interrupted us again.

-"Cat, you need to see this."

-"Cat, what are you going to do? We're an hour away. There's no way you can reach the house in time, if you can't fly," Kim said.

-"That doesn't matter." I turned to my dad. "Help me save them. We can do it."

Dad looked at me askance. "You'd sacrifice it for this?"

-"Sacrifice what?" Kim asked.

-"Sacrifice most of my soul-light to teleport to the house. Most of it will be depleted, considering that I'll take on dad's toll, too." I took three steps backwards. "Are you coming?"

-"For you, Thomas." Dad stood beside me, and we locked arms.

-"I'll see you later, Kim," I grinned. I concentrated really hard, and felt my essence breaking apart. "Goodbye!"

I enjoyed the look of amazement on his face as we disintegrated.

-"You ready, dad?" I yelled over the roar of the flames. He nodded, and we dropped through the roof and into the house.

The heat was phenomenal. I felt as if I were melting. The flames crackled, and sparks and embers whirled around us. It looked – and felt – like I had walked straight into the Flaming Pit.

-"Where d'you think they'd be?" Dad shouted.

I racked my brain, trying to ignore the chunks of roof falling around me. What's the best hiding place in the house…? The answer came out of nowhere.

-"They're in the crawl space!" I shrieked, horrified. "They probably think it's fireproof! No wonder the firemen couldn't find them!"

We whizzed through the house, passing through all matter of objects. I began to feel as if I'd swallowed a bucketful of fireplace refuse.

The crawl space was only accessible through the second-floor bathroom. We walked through a door that had been attacked with an axe. It had swollen shut, and the firemen had obviously taken an axe to it, thinking that Maria and Chris could have been inside. They were, but not in the way that the firemen thought.

-"Where's this crawl space at?" Dad wanted to know. I pointed underneath the sink.

-"That's the crawl space. I helped Mr. Mark create it several years ago." I stuck my head into the crawl space. Chris was holding a sobbing Maria in his arms. I saw why they couldn't get out – they had inadvertly locked the door from the outside.

I stepped fully into the crawlspace and materialized. Neither of them noticed, so I yelled, "Hey!"

Both of them jumped, and Maria screamed.

-"Who are you?" Chris demanded. "And how'd you get in here?"

-"I'm Cat. Now come on! We gotta get out of here before the roof collapses!" I turned around and blew the door off its hinges. The kids didn't budge an inch. "Well?"

-"You're the ghost," Maria whimpered, her eyes as big as golf balls. "Mom said you'd gone away. Why'd you come back?"

-"To rescue two idiotic teenagers who think they're fireproof! Now get up and move!" I punctuated this remark by yanking both of them to their feet and shoving them out of the hole. They came out gasping.

-"Take these," Dad instructed, handing them each a wet rag. I shot him a grateful glance.

Then, guiding two ashen-faced humans, we carefully picked our way through the debris to the staircase. I groaned in despair. The staircase had already disintegrated.

-"We're going to have to jump," Dad observed.

-"They can't jump, dad! They're human – real, live, breathing humans! They'll break a leg!" I gasped.

Dad shrugged. "It's the only way they're getting out of here. I can't lift anything else. Besides, what's a broken limb or two compared to their life?"

-"Very well; you've convinced me. At least I can try to slow them down." I hopped off the balcony to the bottom floor. "Come on, you idiots!"

Chris looked very pale as he studied the eleven-foot drop to the floor. He closed his eyes and shuffled closer to the edge.

-"Oh, for heaven's sake," Dad grumbled. He leaned forward and shoved Chris off the platform.

His scream of terror was cut short when he landed on the living room sofa. Luckily for him I had maneuvered it to the right spot; a foot to the left and his brains would have been all over the floor.

As Chris shakily got off the sofa, I saw Dad push Maria down. She, too, landed on the couch, and Chris picked her up. I breathed a sigh of relief.

-"Okay. Now we just have to get to the – oh, great." I watched half of the second floor collapse around the front door.

-"There's another way out, isn't there, ghost?" Chris pleaded. "You've lived here for half a century. Plus, Maria's got asthma. She won't last much longer." It was true. Maria hung from his arms like a doll, wheezing.

-"There's the back door…" Dad ventured. "And if worst comes to worst, we can always try the chimney or the windows."

We decided to go towards the back door. As we navigated around piles of broken furniture and the ever-present flames, I said, "Chris, please tell nobody that we helped you. Please. I've already revealed myself for a Ghost Hunters show; I don't want more publicity if I can help it. Well, at least not yet, anyways."

-"Not a problem, ghost dude," he grinned. "Nobody but mom'd believe me, anyways. Now, can we please just get out of here?"

I nodded, but when we got close to the back door, we found our way blocked by a wall of flames. Sighing, we retraced our steps and went back to the living room.

Dad tried to open the large living room window, but it jammed halfway up. He swore explosively. Chris put Maria down on a slightly burned couch and slammed the window shut.

-"Oxygen would just feed the flames and make our deaths come twice as fast," he explained.

-"It doesn't matter to me. I'm already dead." I sighed. "Looks like we don't have a choice. We've got to smash this -blocked-"

-"Ngg…Chris?" Maria moaned. "Chris, where are we?"

-"We're still in the house," he said, his voice breaking and shooting up an octave. "You've only been out for about a minute."

Dad started to say something, but then he screamed. "Thomas!" The horror in his voice made me turn around. "Thomas!!"

-"Dad! No, not now!" I cried. There was no mistaking it: dad was about to leave me. His soul-light was flashing wildly, and his body was slowly becoming more translucent.

-"What's going on?" Maria asked. "Why's he glowing?"

-"Thomas, get the kids out! I'm counting on you to do that." His face relaxed and he smiled. "I'll see you soon." Then he evaporated.

I turned away, sobbing. For a few moments, that was all I could do. Then a loud crack from above snapped me back to reality.

-"No!" I glanced around wildly, then my gaze settled on the sofa. Perfect.

-"Right!" I yelled, levitating the couch. "When I say go, head for the -blocked- We've all of thirty seconds before this house collapses!" Chris and Maria nodded, too terrified to speak.

-"One!" I aimed the couch carefully. If I hit the wall, the house would fall on top of us.

-"Two!" Chris let Maria climb on his back. She perched there with her legs wrapped around his waist and arms locked in a death-grip around his neck.

-"Now!" I hurled the couch through the window and Chris jumped after it. I leaped after him just before the rest of the second story and roof flattened the first floor.

-"Chris! Maria!!" I looked up to see Marcia running towards us. Two firemen raced after her and caught her before she came in range of the still-blazing house.

-"Wait here, ma'am. We'll get them."

I waited patiently while Marcia smothered Chris and Maria with hugs and kisses.

-"Where were you?" she cried. "I couldn't find you. The firemen looked everywhere for you. Where were you?"

-"It was my fault, mom," Maria sobbed. "I got scared. The fire was everywhere; there was no clear way to the stairs. So we hid in the crawl space. It seemed fireproof. Chris and I were about to go back when we realized the door was locked from the outside. Chris broke the door off with a crowbar we found, and we tried to get out. Oh, mom! It was horrible!" She choked on a sob, and started coughing and gasping for air.

By this time, most of the emergency vehicles were gone, except for the ambulance. The paramedics were administering oxygen to Chris while another team checked Maria out and gave her some sort of injection. The house was just a smoldering pile of timbers and destroyed furniture.

When the ambulance finally left, leaving the family standing forlornly on the lawn, I sauntered up to them.

-"Are you guys okay?" I asked, shifting into the visible spectrum. Everyone jumped.

-"Go away, you hideous thing!" Mrs. Heath shouted. "Why're you here? To see the remains of your house?"

I glared at her, then looked at Chris. "Well?"

Chris nodded. "Um…mom? The ghost saved our lives. It was true that we were trapped in the crawlspace, but I didn't get us out. The ghost did. He's the one you should be thanking. He broke the window so we could get out."

-"You expect me to believe that pack of lies, Christopher? There's no way an abomination such as that helped you!" she spat.

-"My name is Cat. Or you could call me Thomas. Take your pick," I sighed. Mrs. Heath snarled in disgust.

-"Mom, Thomas really did save us," Maria argued.

Mrs. Heath looked confused. "Then what you told the firemen wasn't true?"

-"No. Cat asked us to keep quiet about his involvement," Chris confirmed.

Mrs. Heath looked at me in contempt. "Why'd you save them?" she asked, suspicious. "What would you gain?"

-"I hoped to gain something that would help me leave this earth forever, and rejoin my own family. It looks like that's not going to happen." I looked up at the sky. "How did the fire start, anyways? And does Rebecca know?"

-"I know now." Rebecca was standing on the curb by a taxi. She paid her fare and the cab drove off. "And I'm not too happy about it, either."

-"You have a lot to answer for, Mrs. Turner!" Marcia screeched. "Why didn't you tell me about the ghost?"

-"He was standing in his room when we toured the house," Rebecca replied, sounding surprised. "You looked straight at him before you said you'd buy the house."

-"I did? Then how…?" She turned to look at me. "I'm sorry."

-"What?"

-"I'm sorry I tried to force you out of your house. I guess I owe you something for saving Chris and Maria. What do you want?" she asked.

-"You're taking this remarkably well," Rebecca commented.

-"Well, there's not much else I can do. Anyways, I guess what I'm trying to say is…thank you."

Something exploded next to me, and I dove to the ground. I glanced up. My soul-light was flashing like a strobe light."

Thomas, what is that?" Rebecca whispered.

-"My soul-light…" I trailed off and stared up at it. "I'm…my time is up." I and turned to Marcia. "Thank you, Mrs. Heath. I'm sorry I caused you so much trouble. Make sure Maria and Chris don't get trapped in anymore burning houses, okay?"

She nodded, a look of relief plastered across her face.

I sighed and turned towards Rebecca. "I love you, Rebecca. Never forget me."

-"Oh, Thomas, how could I?" she choked, and air-hugged me as best she could. I looked skyward over her shoulder.

-"Finally." I breathed in and evaporated into nothingness. The last thing I felt was Rebecca's arms, hugging me as tight as she could.

-"Ah, Thomas Cat Barlow," he laughed. "I've been expecting you."

-"Did my dad come through safely?"

-"That he did, Thomas. But we aren't here to discuss him; we're here to talk about you." He paused to look off in the distance. "Let's hurry this up. A girl will be arriving shortly. Another young one." He looked over at me again. "About your age, I guess." He pulled my paper from his bag.

-"How does it look? Is it good?"

He smiled at me. "Very much so, young Thomas. Now, come with me." The man shuffled over to a light blue door standing in the mist. After unlocking it, he said, "If you find a lady named Maryanne Jenkins, will you tell her that Joseph is thinking of her?"

-"Of course I will. Thank you, Mr. Jenkins." I bowed low to him.

Joseph smiled. "Goodbye, Thomas Barlow." He saluted me, then turned back to the misty landscape. "Ah, Luna…"

I stepped through the door and onto a gold-lined street. I glanced behind me, but nothing was there. The door had vanished.

A figure sprang into view on the far end of the street. It was running fast, light brown hair flying. I smiled. "Mom!"

-"Thomas!"

V-Day Event Introduction