By Emily Gellhaus
“Get it right this time, Therrus.” Loriq’s green skin shimmers as he stabs a finger at the main console of the Civaran starship. “Three relocations in two months?”
“Word of honor.” I raise one six-fingered hand in an Earthling salute. “No more interacting with primitive humans.”
My neck scrunches at the lie. Humans are just so fascinating, right down to their obsession with the toxic substance called caffeine. I shudder and check the pocket of my Hawaiian shirt for my medpac—immunity pills rendering most Earth food safe and several poison antidotes. The portal hopper on my wrist beeps.
“Location locked.” Loriq turns. “And this time, actually send your repor—”
The spaceship blinks away, and I’m standing in an Earthling living room. Dusty couch, table, a strange lack of television, peeling wallpaper, and scarred wood floors. I grin. How absolutely brilliant.
My holographic disguise flickers. I adjust the settings, double-check it’s hiding my skin, then take care of everything else. Straw hat on my bald head. Wraparound sunglasses over golden eyes. Time to inspect the neighborhood and not interact with the primitives. At least, no more than necessary. I am a researcher, after all.
Cold blasts through me. I spin. In the middle of the floor is… a human. Middle-aged. Disheveled. Slightly gray. Clothes that scream Revolutionary War reenactment.
“Ge—” His roar fizzles. “Green?”
I freeze like a teleport gone wrong. “You can see me? The real me?”
He flinches. “You can see me?”
I rip off the sunglasses. His feet hover above the floorboards, and a painting on the far wall is visible through his body—a painting that looks just like him except for the gritted teeth and clenched fists.
“Jackson Mitchell.” I read the inscription. “You’re a… a ghost.”
I bound forward, reach for the customary handshake and accidentally shove my fingers through his torso. “Sorry, but—wow—this means I can talk to you as much as I want. I have so many questions, Jack… Can I call you Jack? Why do humans lavish riches on domesticated creatures? Why cry over stacks of bound paper? What’s the purpose of modern art?”
A white haze—like steam from a boiling pot—forms around Jack’s body. “Getouttamyhouse!”
The words are too garbled to understand, but it sounds like an over-enthusiastic greeting. I scrunch my own face, raise my arms slightly to imitate the white aura around him and shout, “Gedata mahas to you, too.” Then in a normal tone, I dutifully give my alias. “I’m Luke James.”
He opens his mouth in a low roar. Odd, but I copy. His roar intensifies. I do the same. The air crackles with electricity. Knickknacks and books fly from their resting places. “Vilefiend!”
“No.” I duck the unidentified flying objects. “Luke James.” Such strange customs these Earthlings have… even the vaporous ones. But I don’t want to be rude. I grab a few of the remaining trinkets and hurl them into the air.
Jack swerves sideways, hair flying back to reveal slightly pointed eyebrows.
“Hey, you look like Spock.”
“Speck?” Lightning arcs around him.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t heard of Spock.” I lift my wrist and pull up a holographic screen. A classic sci-fi rerun hovers between us. “There he is.”
Every airborne object crashes to the floor. Jack’s eyes glue to the show. “What is that?”
“Uh… TV?” Exactly how long has this house has been uninhabited?
A thrill runs through me. If he hasn’t seen TV, I’ll get to share all my favorites. Star Wars, Star Trek, Stargate. Wow, humans love stars.
A knock sounds on the front door.
“Excuse me.” I shut down the screen.
“No.” He grabs at my wrist, passing through it with an electrical jolt.
“Ow.” I shake my arm. “Now, I don’t blame you for being excited, but I need to see who’s here. Then, I promise, we’ll watch more.”
He rushes at me. How delightful; he’s a hugging ghost. I stretch out my arms. More electricity pops like fireworks in sappy movies.
His body sinks past my skin, hand reaching for my wristband. There’s another jolt. A flash. And he’s gone.
“Jack?” I search the room. Glance at my hopper. Perhaps his ghost energy reacted with it. “Are you still here?”
Nothing. The knock sounds again.
“Um, I’ll be back, Jack.” I rush to the door.
A small, white-haired woman holds a plate of cookies. “Is everything… all right?” Her smile falters.
My glasses. I shove them back on. “Sorry, er, allergies. Luke James.” I put out my hand.
“Martha.” She slowly hands me the plate. “I heard noise and… er… welcome to the neighborhood.”
“A welcome gift?” I gasp. “How kind.”
Her eyes crinkle. “My world-famous spiced cookies.”
“Would you like to come in?” I sweep one arm behind me.
She stares at the decrepit living room. “Er, no. No, I really must be going.” With a stifled goodbye, she shuffles down the walkway.
“Live long and prosper.” I bring the cookies to the coffee table, already reaching for my immunity pills. Strange. They’re gone. Oh well. Loriq should have sent the rest of my supplies by now.
Unable to resist, I shove a cookie in my mouth and groan at the delicate taste before heading to find more pills.
A sharp pain bends me in half. “What the—” I lurch back to the plate and hold my watch over it. “Computer, analyze.”
“Analyzing.” A robotic voice intones. “Butter, baking soda, cinnamon, espresso powder—”
“Espresso.” Horror twists my already knotted guts. “Who puts espresso in cookies?”
Claw-like pangs slash at me. “Need… antidote.”
I stagger to the stairs, each step more excruciating than the last.
A cold breeze. A thump by my head. My medpac. How—? With the last of my strength, I pry open the antidote and force it down my throat. My vision begins to clear.
A transparent figure hovers over my collapsed body.
“More Spock.”
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Hahaha I LOVED this! It had me cackling. Great characterization of Therrus! 😃
Thanks so much!
Fun ghost story!
Thank you! I had fun writing it.
Therrus, come one! You don’t know the purpose of modern art? Obviously, it’s to propagate a nihilistic worldview which justifies unbounding oneself from moral restraints. (Can’t help you understand why humans lavish riches on domesticated animals, that one don’t make no sense.)
Haha, love that description!
This was so much fun! You even got all my favorite shows with “star” in them!
Thank you! Jack’s name may have been inspired by Colonel O’Neill.
Haha, this was super fun to read! Loved the ghost interaction, and “more Spock.”
Thanks so much! I’ve always loved the idea of ghosts who love binge watching.
I laughed so much! This was such a fun story ❤️
Oh, yay! Thank you!
I agree with everyone! What fun! I really enjoyed this; was smiling to myself throughout.