We Need to Haunt

“Good evening and welcome to The Late Hour! It is 10PM and a Friday night, and you all know what that means!” The audience cheered loudly. “Settle in and grab your popcorn folks. I am your host, Daniel Taylor - but please call me DT - and we are Live!”

The presenter, DT was nothing Lacey hadn’t seen a thousand times before; slick black hair framing a tanned face with a five-o-clock shadow, silvering temples and an immaculately tailored outfit made of finest materials.

So flashy!

Lacey didn’t like flash, but she needed him. He was popular, influential and presented a show that reached millions each week. What was most astounding was that he actually wanted to interview her!

“But wait, it’s not any old Friday; today marks the five year anniversary of the Convergence!” The audience responded with oohs and ahs.

“And as it’s a special occasion, you’ve all probably figured out who one of my guests are, haven’t you?”

The audience cheered so loudly that they sounded like a large crowd; it reached her through the walls. She wasn’t alone there; a young man with white hair and an all-too-familiar face was seated on the sofa next to her. She sensed no fear from him at all, but hadn’t expected to.

“That’s right everybody, we are joined by none other than Weston Grace himself, our resident expert in paranormal events and supernatural entities.”

The introduction was wasted on Lacey; Weston Grace had been at the site of the Convergence when it occurred, it was the reason a man so young had hair so white… Lacey knew this as she had been there too.

The fact that he didn’t recognize her wasn’t surprising; Weston had met many Spirits that evening.

“But there’s more.” DT was speaking in hushed tones that carried clearly via the miracle of modern technology. “After years of trying, we have finally managed to get an interview with a ghost!” The audience gasped collectively. “And not just any ghost, but the oldest one on record.” Weston turned to her, his mouth agape.

“Yes, the Lady of the Oaks has agreed to speak with us.” DT droned on for a while longer, prepping the audience for her coming on set.

Five years since the Convergence, and the living fear the dead more than ever.

Weston Grace was invited on set first, the introductory segment was dedicated to his new book, but he had other ideas.

“It would be rude to discuss the supernatural without including the real expert.”

She felt both excited and nervous at being invited on set early, and couldn’t remember the last time she had felt either sensation; it was uncommon in her condition.

 She wanted to make an entrance and fly through the wall… but proceeded to the studio via the open doorway, the same way mortal guests did, just as requested. 

Her appearance was followed by complete silence; the audience’s fear oozed from the stands like molasses, thick and viscous. She siphoned it within herself as she drifted past and hoped it would be sufficient to keep them calm long enough to hear her words.

Lacey had spotted her reflection on the way in, a novelty of the Convergence, and couldn’t blame them for being scared. She was wispily transparent, floating just above the ground with hair undulating as though trapped under water.

She coasted up three cream-carpeted steps to take her seat; she checked her position, making sure she looked seated, then turned to smile politely to their host. The studio audience remained still; she felt a fresh gush of fear bleeding from DT and wished she could siphon his too, but didn’t want to take any more risks.

“Welcome to the set my Lady.” Despite the undercurrent of fear, DT’s voice was smooth.

“We don’t need to be so formal. Lacey will do.” She understood that the living found their voices unnerving, but wasn’t expecting the room’s fear levels to spike so abruptly at her first words.

“Sorry, I know we sound unsettling.”

“Don’t be.” DT replied. “It’s just strange for us… like echoes riding on waves or something.”

“I think we are digressing.” It was Weston. “Daniel, sorry my friend, but I need to borrow your show for five minutes.” DT raised his hands in a gesture of surrender; looking relieved to let go of the reigns for a while.

“So your name is Lacey? Is that a common name from your time?”

“I am not sure; it’s not my real name, it’s just what my friends call me, for my appearance.” She pointed at the black open-holed shawl that draped her shoulders. In its spectral form it made the unknown pale textile beneath appear laced. “And it’s as good as any other when you cannot recall your mortal name.”

“Why do you not remember your mortal name?” Weston’s brow furrowed in sympathy.

“I have been dead a long time… a bound soul that has wandered so long that I cannot recall why I started wandering in the first place.” She smiled, hoping she wasn’t blowing her chance.

“With your permission, I would like to explain something to the audience, and if I get anything wrong, I would welcome a correction.” She nodded for him to continue. “Ladies and gentleman, only a small fraction of souls are bound to the Etheric realm, and from what I’ve learned in conversing with other Spirits is that it’s always about unfinished business. A need to correct or settle something, and most of the time the matter is resolved swiftly. But not every soul knows why they have been bound; they don’t know what their unfinished business is and are left to wander.”

She nodded again. “That’s the gist of it.”

“Do you think you will find your purpose? And what happens when you fulfill it?”

“I am not sure I will… as I’ve forgotten my mortal life, I have little hope of figuring that out. However, if I ever did, I guess my Reaper would finally be able to claim my energy.”

“You mean the Grim Reaper?” Weston’s eyes were large.

“No, just one of the many Reapers out there; we each have one assigned to us at birth. They act on behalf of Death, and announce your name when they reap you… mine knows who I am and when I am collected, I will too.” She laughed.

“You sound eager, not unlike most Spirits I’ve met; but your reasons are by far the most unique.”

“Passing over is natural… and most of us really want to.”

“Do you know where you will move on to?”

“That’s a mystery for us too. Only those that have done it know what waits beyond The Veil.” Lacey chuckled and looked shyly at her hands; she felt mischief stir and was unsure if she should continue. “But there is something I can share; I have witnessed the reaping of countless souls over the years, and something incredible waits for us in that moment… as the scythe slices the mortal coil, a door and passage is created, and each one is unique to the soul that needs to pass through it. I don’t know what they call it, but I’ve been calling it the Reaper’s Embrace.”

“So we each have a Reaper, waiting to usher us to the beyond, in the way that would make us feel the most comfortable?”

“Yes, it’s incredible to watch, and the peace that’s left behind as their energy disperses into the universe… for a Spirit, it’s the closest we come to breathing.”

“May I ask how long you've been in the Etheric realm?”

“Hmmm you mortals like your complicated names… Etheric Realm? For the ethereal? That’s nice, but we call it The Veil.”

“Thank you.” He looked a little sheepish. “You are actually not the first Spirit to tell me that. How long have you been shrouded by The Veil?”

“I don’t have an exact number… but I remember things; like the last time Death rode with his Reapers during The Plague; and when Pope Urban called for an armed pilgrimage against Jerusalem, resulting in The Crusades. I marveled at the construction of the Hagia Sophia, nearly a thousand years before it was claimed by the Ottoman Empire; and I was present on the day they crucified the man you now call Jesus.” The audience gasped, but she didn’t let that stop her. “I followed Alexander the Great’s campaign all the way to India, watching him crush one empire to replace it with his own; and I spent centuries with blacksmiths, baring witness as our species transitioned from bronze to iron smelting. But there’s more… I was there as they laid the foundations for the Ziggurat of Ur.

Her words were followed by a stunned silence. “If you were already wandering then…” Weston spoke, awe in his voice. “Then that makes you more than 4000 years old!”

“It does.” She conceded.

Weston and DT spent the next twenty minutes questioning her on the various events she’s born witness to, lapping up every detail like updating history was breaking news.

“I think I speak for everyone when I ask, what has changed for you since the Convergence?”

“You mean other than the rather violent merger of our planar realms, and the millions of little and large changes we’ve all experienced since?”

Weston laughed, and Lacey and the audience joined him. She really hoped she was making a good impression, and was pleased to feel the audience’s fear dissipate even further on its own. 

Weston nodded for her to continue.

“Many things have changed, the most obvious things being our visibility and capacity for communication. Previously those acts required large amounts of energy, and we had to choose both our words and our moments very carefully.” She was finally speaking on behalf of her kind. “But now we are clear and visible in our rested states, which has obviously had mixed results.”

“You certainly said it. What about your ability to interact with the physical world?” Weston asked.

“That still requires energy, and no small amount of focus. Which leads into another change I’ve observed; it has become so much harder for us to harvest energy.”

“Could you explain?” Weston, the audience and DT all leaned in. She sensed no fear at all now, a slight readiness remained only.

“We need to haunt; it was easy before the Convergence. It is the only way we can harvest the energy we need. We have been accompanying the living in this fashion for eons, mostly without your knowledge.” She was doing it, and no one was stopping her. “However, now that you can see us we are no longer welcome in your homes. You barricade your borders with iron and salt and my kind languish on the outside. We’ve been forced to resort to new methods to harvest the energy we need.” She knew that all she had to do was share the truth.

“Thank you for being so honest.” DT chimed in, she turned towards him.

“I am sure Weston already knows this, but I am curious.” His even-toothed smile looked expensive. “How does haunting give you energy? And what are you doing now that’s so different from before?”

“We play a rather important role in your lives… we absorb your fears…they are our energy. And when I said it was easy before, I really meant it; we’d simply wait for you to get into a panic or have a nightmare, swoop in and absorb most of it. No harm was done and everyone felt better for it at the end… now we either isolate ourselves, fading into our wisp-like states… or…” This was proving harder than she thought. The truth both angered and shamed her. “Or we turn into the monsters you already think we are; opportunistically and deliberately frightening you to feed, and giving ourselves terrible names along the way.”

“Which in turn just makes the living buy more salt and iron.” Weston mused, his fingertips forming a steep arc before his lips.

Lacey nodded in reply, grateful for his contribution. “Only the Gluttons amongst the Spirits used to act in such a way, but I now watch as dear friends have become shadows of their former selves.”

“Are you asking us to remove the iron? To remove the salt? So you could haunt us again?” DT asked. His questions lined Lacey up perfectly for her next point.

“I think our days of haunting are done, and it has only ever been something we had to do as you couldn’t see us.” Lacey looked into the stands, some of the members of the audience had sat back and crossed their arms over their chests; frowns creased their brows. But many appeared more interested than before and this was enough for her.

“No. It’s clear that things have changed, and we must too, lest we be left behind. And it feels logical that we find a way to restore our former peaceful coexistence; one where your fears were lessened as we recovered. All we need to do is start talking…” Another glance at the audience confirmed the seed Lacey wanted to plant had found soil… she hoped the soil was good.

DT was sitting back, his arms not exactly crossed, but folded in a subliminal gesture of defence. “I am not sure how you plan to make this work.”

“There are so many ways, and it really is down to talking about it to find what works” Weston interjected. “I actually have four Spirits living with me. I wish they had explained the roles we play in each other’s lives, but now that I know… Damn! I haven’t felt overwhelmed about anything since they moved in.” He was grinning like a child, his dark skin almost shutting his eyes in delight.

The show turned into a riveting conversation between the Lady of the Oaks and Weston Grace. The kind usually held in private; making every audience member feel like a clandestine fly on the wall, even DT was pleased to observe. They shared anecdotes, ideas and theories on the nature of the supernatural; she even enhanced a few ideas for him.

She asked about the Spirits living with him, and he agreed to introduce her to them.

“Wait you two, I know we’re nearing the end, but there’s still a show on the road and I need to know.” DT said. “There are just so many vengeful Spirits out there right now, aren’t you going to get rid of them first?” A large portion of the audience nodded in agreement.

“Most can be restored to peaceful Spirits.” Weston said. “Isn’t that right Lacey?”

“It is, and I should know as I was one once.” She let the information sink in, and felt tendrils of fear exuding from the audience once more. She absorbed it and allowed herself to complete the gesture; she wanted them to feel their fear pop away. Several members gasped loudly, cupping hands to their mouths in surprise.

“That was a long time ago. Before Ur, I spent over five centuries trapped in a spirit-gem. It’s a dark, empty and lonely existence, with no memories to keep me company… and I was very angry upon my release.”

“What changed you?” Weston asked softly.

“A small boy called Ashur.” She smiled at the memory. “I found him when I was out scouting for a new victim He was fond of animals, and kept cats and crows.”

Weston smiled at her words.

“What’s so funny Weston?” DT asked.

“Cats and crows hold a special place in our folklore as being able to pierce The Veil.” He turned his attention back on Lacey. “They warned him, didn’t they?”

She laughed, and to her surprise, a large portion of the audience joined her. “Yes, the crows squawked and the cats hissed, every last one of them looking right at me as they did. Ashur always tried to find what they were staring at. I ultimately had to haunt him from a distance, siphoning away his fears as he cared for his animals and went about life. He was fascinating, the way he cared for them and tried his best, and not just for those he considered companions… he reminded me of someone I think I knew… once.”

“And that helped you stop being vengeful?” DT had rested his elbows on his desk, his posture seemed more open.

“Not exactly, though I believe it was the start of it. I had actually moved on; the animals were proving too difficult.

When I checked in on him a few months later I found him in tears, holding the body of an old dead crow in his open palms… I wanted to comfort him, but his animals warned him of my approach.” Not a sound could be heard in the studio. “Ashur turned and asked who was there, his nose and eyes were all red and swollen… so I gathered my energy and made myself visible to him. He wasn’t frightened or anything, he just looked at me with a triumphant look in his eyes… like his animals had proven him right once more.”

“Did you speak? I understand the energy to communicate was so much greater than what was required for appearances.”

“I knelt beside him, touched the bird and managed the word ‘sorry’. He seemed to understand and nodded. I was able to wave goodbye before fading. I chose then to stay with him, and did for many years till he died; I still visit his descendants each generation to see how they are doing.”

DT leaned in, sympathy in his eyes for the first time. “You can’t visit them anymore can you? Not unless we find a way to start talking to each other?”

Lacey felt light, nodding her head vigorously.

The seed she had wished to plant had not only found fertile soil, but in more than one location.