Diary of a Part Time Ghost (Ghosts & Shadows Book 1) Read online

“When do you expect her back?”

  “Don’t know. She’s gone travelling.”

  “Did she happen to leave anything here?”

  Unease gave way to suspicion as I remembered Bibi’s warning. “No. She left with all her stuff. Can I sign for that package? Or do you want to leave a message, Mr …”

  But the man was shaking his head as he stepped away from the door. “It’s all right. I’ll come back another time.”

  I watched the man leave and then shut the door, wondering what that was about and feeling like something nasty had just entered my home without me being aware of it. I hurriedly finished the dishes after turning on all the lights, and then dashed upstairs to my room, where I pulled out the book and tossed it onto my desk.

  When the book is with you, the shadows can’t easily see you on this side.

  What did Bibi mean? Would I have to keep the thing with me at all times? And what do positive thoughts have to do with weird shadows? I glanced about but didn’t see any shadows. I paced back and forth, eying the book apprehensively. I chewed at my lower lip and tugged at my hair. Oh yeah, I was really concentrating and getting nowhere fast. Finally, I flopped into my chair, my decision made before I could think any further, before I could remind myself of how crazy this whole thing was.

  Grabbing the book, I flipped open the cover and found myself gazing upon the scene of a busy wharf with one ship docked and several other ships floating nearby in the background. The painting was so detailed I could almost hear the bustling crowds, the calls of seagulls, and the creak of ships rocking gently on the water.

  Licking my lips and glancing around the room, as if for the last time (you never know), I smacked my hand down on the picture and immediately felt a hungry suction grasping at my fingers. A tingling sensation rapidly transmitted itself up my arm and down my spine. This was not a pleasant sensation, by the way. I also felt a mild jolt in my head, the kind you get if you bite into something very cold, and my eyes blurred over. When my vision cleared, I found myself back in the veil.

  Faster than thought and energized by curiosity, I crossed the veil and was sucked through the other side, where I was deposited unceremoniously in the midst of the busy dock. No one seemed to notice my rather unconventional arrival. As I gazed about, I realized I couldn’t feel anything. Not the wind, the ground beneath me, or the warmth of the sun. Nothing. Nor could I smell the fragrances, even though there were numerous carts being pushed through the crowd with everything from freshly caught fish to freshly roasted chestnuts.

  For the record and from experience, let me tell you that sensory deprivation is very disturbing. So is hearing a voice right by my ear.

  “Wow! You’re a bit jumpy!” Mir exclaimed as I screamed and jumped about. She was on the verge of laughing. I was not.

  My heart pounding fiercely, I glared at her. I was reminded of my sisters. In other words, I was reminded of a little person who knew how to be a big pest. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people!”

  “Glad you could make it,” she continued as if I hadn’t spoken. That seemed to be a habit of hers.

  “Where are we?” I demanded. Truth be told, I didn’t really care. What I really wanted to know was why I had let myself get sucked into this place. I was already regretting it. “And why can’t I feel anything?”

  “We’re somewhere along the coast of England, a few hundred years before your time. And you need a body to feel or smell.”

  Say again?

  I stared at her, my mind a little slow in the comprehension department. You ever have that experience where you hear the words but you just don’t understand them at first? Bingo. And then, bingo! I didn’t have a body. Staring at her in horror, I gasped in a squeaky voice, “Oh no, I’m dead!” I wondered what my family would say when they found me sprawled over my desk, killed by a history book. Literally. Or maybe, I thought with growing despair, there would be no body to find, and my family would spend years searching in vain for their missing son.

  Not exactly happy thoughts.

  “You’re not dead,” Mir responded airily, waving a hand dismissively at me. “You just don’t have your body with you, that’s all.”

  “That’s all, huh?” I tried to be humorous, but it didn’t work. Feeling silly and freaked out at the same time, I took a deep breath, and then realized I couldn’t feel my lungs or the air coming in. Maybe I didn’t need to breathe if I didn’t have a body. Hm, interesting idea. Well, I was grateful that I was still alive, even if I didn’t have a body. I wasn’t really sure what that meant or how it was possible, but I decided to take her word on it. I didn’t have much choice, really. Then I wondered if being bodiless meant I was a ghost. But to be a ghost, didn’t I have to be dead? And Mir had said I wasn’t, so … I was still confused.

  It was then that I had another stunning realization (it was quite a night for realizations): I was suspended slightly above the cobblestones and I could see the stones through my translucent feet. It was disorientating. Okay, that’s a serious understatement. It was completely mind-warping stuff. I was floating and I could see straight through my limbs! I mean, that’s crazy.

  I decided to ignore the bodiless nature of my current ghostly but not-dead existence and instead focused on something a bit more practical and immediate. “So, what do we do now?”

  “What would you like to do?” she inquired in a formal tone.

  Without actually thinking about it, I blurted out, “Find the girl.” As soon as I thought it, the area around me warped and blurred as if I was zooming by at great speed, although I had no sensation that I was even moving. The dock disappeared in a multi-colored swirl of lines, followed by a twisting mass of blue. Colors smeared together at an amazing speed. And then, before I could use my bodiless lungs to take in a breath (possibly to scream), the world solidified in a dizzy spin around me, but the scene was quite different.

  The crowded dock was long gone; instead, I was inside a small room, the walls of which were made of rough wood. One small, round porthole let in a dreary ray of light; otherwise, there was no other light source. Judging from the motion, the creaking noise, and the small snatches of the view through the grimy glass, I figured I was on a ship. The floor of the room was wood, worn smooth with the footsteps of many weary passengers and bearing a few dark stains on its surface. Sitting on a thin mattress, with her eyes downcast and her back against the wall, was the girl.

  “Why don’t you talk to her?” Mir quietly suggested.

  “What?” I stared at her. “Are you crazy? I would scare her to death! Besides, she can’t even see or hear me, apparently.”

  “She can if you want her to,” Mir responded with an almost sly tone to her voice.

  “Really?” I gasped, and then thought about it. I wasn’t too sure if I really wanted to be seen and heard. What would the girl think if I suddenly popped into view, literally out of thin air? And why would I want to?

  “Come outside the room,” Mir commanded, and then, without touching me, she somehow pulled me through the wall. Yes, that’s right: she pulled me through the wall. I guess it’s not that surprising that a ghost can walk through walls, but it definitely surprised me! Although it was more like the wall kind of absorbed me and then pushed me to the other side. There was a moment when I was completely surrounded by matter as far as I could see, which didn’t make sense because the wall wasn’t that thick. It also wasn’t that solid when I was inside it: there was lots of space between the bits that looked solid. And there were bouncy, fist-sized brown balls that were connected by fuzzy lines, and the lines kept disappearing and reappearing, and the balls kept darting around to fill up space and then move to the next empty spot. Needless to say, being pulled through a solid object was definitely up there on my ever-growing list of weird and wacky, and not necessarily in a good way. I would not recommend walking through solid matter, just in case you ever have that opportunity, like you get temporarily turned into a ghost. Or something.

  “Please don’t
do that again,” I groaned. My vision was blurry and zipping around too fast, and my stomach felt like it was about to heave out its contents. (Although, come to think of it, a ghost can’t have anything to throw up, right?) “Were those brown, round things wood cells?”

  “Now, focus,” Mir ordered sternly, completely ignoring my question. Only then did I notice that we were in a narrow and dismal corridor.

  “On what?” I demanded irritably, or at least I tried to be irritable, which was so much better than being afraid. I was also wishing that I had kept the book shut.

  “On being calm and present and positive,” she explained.

  I rolled my eyes in disbelief. “I really don’t see how that helps.”

  “Just try,” Mir persisted patiently. “Visualize yourself as visible. And be positive. Positive thinking is a powerful force.”

  I wasn’t feeling particularly positive and definitely not powerful. Unsure what I was supposed to be doing, I nonetheless closed my eyes and pictured myself sitting back in my room, in my body, in the real and modern world, very solid and visible and not walking through walls or floating about like a ghost. Maybe it wasn’t powerful, but the image was reassuring and definitely positive, and I clung to it, desperately wishing it were true.

  To my surprise, Mir clapped her hands. “Okay, good enough!” She seemed pleased, although I didn’t feel any different. I opened my eyes and glanced down, noting with relief that I could no longer see the floor through my feet.

  “Go in,” Mir whispered. “Remember, though, that you only look solid, but you aren’t, so don’t let her try to shake your hand.”

  “Can I become solid?” I asked, curious.

  “Not without a lot of practice,” she replied, paused, and then continued, “Or some terribly drastic, traumatic, and near-fatal event.”

  That definitely did not sound good. I turned to face the door. Hesitantly, I approached the door, which was ajar. Automatically I reached up to knock, and then snatched my hand back as a few fingers started to sink into the wood. I glanced back at Mir, who gestured at me to go.

  “I really did not sign up for this,” I grumbled through gritted teeth. Edging around the door, I moved into the room, focusing on keeping myself visible and earth-bound. The girl glanced up in surprise, and then quickly stood up.

  “Ah …” I stuttered, suddenly realizing that I hadn’t really thought this idea through very well. What on earth could I possibly say to this girl? How about, “Hi, I’m the disembodied ghostlike image of a not-dead boy who lives a few hundred years in the future. Who’re you?”

  I settled for, “Hi.”

  “Hello!” the girl returned, looking a bit cheerier. “I’m Sara Connel,” she stated politely.

  I stared in shock. What had Bibi told me? “Sara? You’re Sara?”

  “Yes!” Sara shyly extended her hand.

  Oh, oh. I pretended not to see it by glancing down at my shoes. They still looked solid. There was an awkward silence.

  “Who’re you?” Sara finally continued in a pert English accent. “I don’t remember seeing you before.”

  I swallowed hard and finally looked up to see the girl staring at me. Sara’s large, gray eyes twinkled in a friendly way. She was a little on the scrawny side as if she had never overeaten in her young life. Her slightly curly hair flopped around her face in a disheveled fashion. A smattering of faint freckles dotted her pale, narrow cheeks. Again I was struck by a sense of familiarity, but I couldn’t place it. Very irritating.

  Mir suddenly hissed in my ear, “Don’t tell her who you are or when you come from. But don’t lie! You’re too close to the veil now, where the truth is always revealed.”

  Great. Don’t tell the truth but don’t lie. Grimacing at the dilemma Mir’s most recent set of instructions put me in, I returned Sara’s gaze. Apparently Sara could neither see nor hear Mir; she was blissfully oblivious to the otherworldly presence in the room. Instead, the girl waited patiently for a perfectly logical answer to her normal question. Sadly, I would not be able to help her with that.

  Shrugging, I answered evasively, “Yeah, well, I haven’t seen you on the ship before either.” That was the truth, I thought. I felt pretty clever, I have to tell you. Then, I continued, “I’m Ash.”

  Sara stared hard at me, her mouth twisting in a slight frown. “I don’t recognize your accent. Where—”

  “Well, that’s what happens when you travel,” I interjected swiftly, and awkwardly continued, “So, are you travelling alone?”

  Dumb, dumb, dumb. Immediately I wished I hadn’t asked that. I knew better. I bit my bottom lip. Of course, I couldn’t actually feel myself biting down but I knew I was doing it. Sara’s cheerfulness had vanished. “No. I mean, yes. I’m travelling with my brother.” She sighed deeply. “We’re hoping to land in time for Christmas, so we can be with our father.”

  “Well, that’s good,” I said with a forced smile. “So, shall we explore the ship?”

  I really didn’t want to do that at all. In fact, I just wanted to go back home and to my body. I really missed my body. Actually, I probably would have settled for any body at that point. I just wanted to be solid and I wanted to be home. And then, once home and in a body, I wanted to slam that book shut, wrap it in several layers of packing tape, lock it into a box, and then toss the box into a deep well and seal the well entrance with brick and mortar.

  But instead, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

  Sara, however, beamed with delight. “Splendid idea! Let’s go topside!”

  I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I assumed it had something to do with exploring the ship. I quickly shifted out of Sara’s path. It was at that moment I realized Mir was no longer there. Now, as irritating as Mir was, at least she knew how to get back into that veil place, and hence my bedroom.

  Unlike me.

  I had no idea.

  Trying to remain calm and focused, I followed the girl out the door, wondering where my irritating, self-appointed guide had disappeared to. As we entered the dark, narrow hallway, a voice called out. “Sara! Wait.” We turned to see a boy of about ten years of age sprinting eagerly toward us, his curly blond hair flopping about his pale face. The delicate features of his face were overwhelmed by large eyes that were a bright blue.

  “Sara, that preacher insists there are angels on this ship,” he blurted out to us.

  Sara crossed her arms and shook her head. “I don’t think there are angels on the ship, or anywhere else for that matter.”

  “I don’t know; he seemed pretty sure of himself,” the boy countered.

  Sara turned to me. “This is my brother,” she explained with a tone that was both annoyed and maternal. “Samuel, this is Ash.”

  Samuel fixed his gaze on me, his mouth pursed in thought. I could see he was not too impressed with me. I was right.

  “Is he okay? He doesn’t look right.”

  “Samuel!” Sara almost hissed, mortified.

  “Well, he doesn’t!” her brother exclaimed. “He’s brown and his clothes are very strange-looking.”

  Both Sara and Samuel studied me. Oops. I smiled back awkwardly. I reminded myself to stay positive and solid. If they thought I looked strange now, what would they say if I suddenly became transparent and floated away?

  “Well, that’s what happens when you travel,” Sara finally responded. Samuel shook his head, not convinced.

  “Well,” I interrupted with forced cheer, “why don’t we go topside?”

  “Great idea!” Sara agreed. She gave her brother a warning glare and a whispered admonition to stay in the room and behave. She then led me down the hallway and up the companionway, which was more like a series of steep, rickety wooden ladders than stairs. I noted with just a little concern that Mir still had not reappeared. Where was she, and, more important, how was I supposed to return home?

  We reached a doorway, and Sara pushed it open with a great effort. A gust of wind almost threw her backward. I preten
ded to also bend against the force of air that I couldn’t feel. A mist of sea spray hovered over everything as large waves crashed against the side of the ship. I could almost imagine the tangy salty smell. Dark clouds gathered ominously in the horizon, obscuring the setting sun.

  “Eh, Sara, me girl,” a rough voice called out. It emanated from a wiry man whose face looked as worn and weathered as the sails flapping loudly overhead. “Looks like we may be in for a storm, so you can’t stay too long above deck. You and your friend.” The man stared at me. Not comfortable.

  “This is Michael,” Sara informed me. I instinctively searched the deck for shadows and Mir. “He has crossed the great ocean several times.”

  I could very well believe that. The man’s skin was thick and leathery from sun, wind, and salt, and his grin showed a number of holes where teeth had once been.

  “That’s right,” Michael’s chest swelled with pride as he continued coiling a rope. “Crossed it and survived! Be careful.” He dramatically gestured with a heavily tattooed arm toward the ocean. “Those waves can sweep a man out pretty quick.”

  “Unless he doesn’t have a body,” I muttered under my breath as my foot brushed through a pile of coiled rope.

  “But no need to worry,” Michael continued. “I know the ocean, just like I know this here boat like the back of my hand,” and he prodded the palm of one hand with a finger from the other. “Been on the Excalibur since she was first built in 1770. That’s …” He thought deeply for a few seconds and counted on his fingers, obviously struggling with some complex calculation. “That would be three years now.”

  “Hm,” I intoned automatically. I was seriously not paying attention to the history lecture. I began to fidget as I glanced around as discretely as possible. There was no sign of Mir or the veil or any other kind of exit. How was I supposed to get back home? My stomach was feeling kind of twisted up, and I reminded myself to focus on staying positive and visible, especially the visible part. Michael was still gushing on about the ocean and the ship. I was still not listening.

  From the corner of one eye, I saw a flicker of movement. I glanced to that side, toward a stack of wooden boxes, hoping it was Mir. It looked a little too dark to be Mir. Could shadows attack a bodiless person? I really hoped I wouldn’t have to find out. I watched the boxes, but saw nothing. It must have been my imagination. Yeah, that’s it.