ALL NOVEL Chapter 5: Making Small Talk
I sit in stunned silence for a moment, unsure of what to say. I had suspected she could understand me, but actually having a conversation with a ghost is a whole new experience. What should I do next?
She continues to float there, silently observing me.
Should I feel excited? Scared? Despite living with her for a while, this is my first time talking with a ghost.
Let’s start with some basic questions.
“... Can you speak?"
There’s a pause... and then a shake of her ghostly head. So, she can’t speak. This is going to make communication more challenging.
“Do you know what a ghost is?"
A nod.
“Do you realize you’re a ghost, a being that has passed away?"
A brief pause, then another nod.
I know what you're thinking, "such a stupid question." But in unprecedented situations, certainty is rare. Maybe ghosts, like sleepwalkers, aren’t aware of their actions. Well, now we know. But honestly, I’m grasping at straws here, panicked by encountering a ghost I can actually talk to, yet fascinated.
What if I’m the only person who has ever spoken to a ghost?
What if there’s a ghost society observing my every move?
Could becoming a ghost myself upon death invalidate all religions?
How does death even work?
Is there a God?
What I ask could reshape my life and beliefs forever. As you can see, I’m very panicked right now. Very, very panicked. But I won’t get any answers if I don’t ask the ghost girl.
The inability to speak makes this even more agonizing. No, that’s an excuse. Why am I sidetracking? I should focus on asking questions.
“... Do you intend to harm me?"
She immediately shakes her head. That quick response boosts my confidence.
“Are you comfortable with me talking to you?"
She pauses longer this time, staring blankly at me, perhaps contemplating. Then, a slight nod. This reassures me further.
“Did you exist here before I sensed your presence?"
She nods.
Oh no.
“... Did you die in this apartment?"
She flickers and shakes her head.
Thank goodness. I don’t want to be in some murder mystery plot.
“How long were you here before I arrived?"
Pause... pause... pause... She just stares blankly at me. Right, only yes or no questions because she can’t speak. I’m getting too ahead of myself.
“Were you here at least a year before I sensed you?"
Another pause... and she continues to stare blankly. Why has she stopped responding? Did she suddenly stop understanding me? No, let’s not jump to conclusions. Ask another question. Maybe the problem is with my previous questions... or maybe...
“Do you understand what existence is?"
She nods.
“Do you understand the concept of time?"
A half-nod.
“Do you know how much time has passed since we started talking?"
A firm shake of her head.
So she can’t distinguish time. Good to know... But why do I need to know? My thoughts are slipping away.
“I... I don’t know what else to ask.”
She looks at me, and I continue.
“I’m at a loss for words—literally, since you can’t speak. See? I’m jumping topics like a politician. I can’t keep my thoughts straight, especially when I have to carry this conversation alone.”
She gazes at me, seeming to judge.
HEY! STOP JUDGING ME! I'M JUST A REGULAR PERSON WHO WORKS TOO MUCH, SLEEPS TOO LITTLE, EATS TOO LITTLE!
Of course, I don’t say those words aloud, fearing supernatural repercussions, but the thought lingers.
It feels like she heard me. Her glow dims a bit... more brooding. No, it’s probably my imagination. Yes, my imagination. Wait, imagination? Imiganation? How do you pronounce imagination? Why is the ceiling spinning?
Wait.
Why am I looking at the ceiling? Wasn’t I just staring at the ghost girl in front of meeeeeeeeeeeeeee?
---
I wake up in my bed.
Oh, I must have fallen asleep. What time is it?
I rub my eyes and check my phone—it’s 3 AM.
I should still be asleep...
Yawning, I set my phone back on the bedside table and prepare to sleep. But then I see two intense, unblinking eyes piercing through me. Their owner lies facing me.
I blink.
I roll over.
I blink again.
Suddenly, memories of before I fell asleep flood back like a tsunami.
I sit up abruptly, staring at the ghost girl. I clearly fainted... Did she cause it?
The ghost girl sits up beside me. Whether she caused it or not, I’m awake now. But what do I do?
As I try to process everything, I cross my legs. In the darkness, only her eyes betray her supernatural nature. There’s no moonlight through my windowless room. From the faint hallway light, she looks... normal.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm down.
Don’t overthink it.
I take another deep breath.
“... Did I faint?"
I see her silhouette nod.
“Did you bring me to bed?"
Another nod.
So she can touch humans, at least me, when she wants to.
“Is there something urgent you need to tell me?"
A shake of her head.
“Do you know why I started seeing you?"
Another shake and a flicker. That’s suspicious, but I’ll think about it later. For now, I’ll let it slide.
“Alright,” I say finally. “Is there anything else you want to tell me, ghost girl?”
She shakes her head again, her eyes fixed on mine.
“Do you mind if I ask you more questions?”
This time, she nods slightly.
“Okay,” I continue, gathering my thoughts. “Are you... lonely?”
The question seems to catch her off guard. She hesitates, then nods slightly again. I see. She might be stuck here in my dingy old apartment, unable to move on.
“Do you... miss being alive?”
Another nod, more definite this time. I suppose she carries memories and emotions in her form.
“Do you remember how you died?”
Her form flickers briefly, then steadies. A clear sign she doesn’t want to talk about it.
“It’s okay,” I assure her softly. “You don’t have to tell me.”
I pause, unsure of what to ask next. The room feels heavy with unspoken histories and unanswered questions. Oh, that’s right. I haven’t asked her one important question yet.
“Do you have a name? I don’t want to keep calling you “ghost girl” whether it be aloud or in my head."
She doesn’t respond. I wait another minute or two, as we’re stuck in another staring contest. I can tell she’s thinking because she’s flickering, but I cannot understand why she isn’t answering. Finally, she nods her head.
I blink, losing the contest again, while nodding. This would have most likely been a comical sight from an observer’s perspective, with us being dead silent and talking through hand gestures. I really want to ask her what her name was... but sorting through the alphabet through nods isn’t enticing... how do we communicate better... more efficiently... what should I do...
What the hell Elise?! Why’re you so dumb?!
I scream internally, realizing what I should have done from the get go. Quickly, I hurry off the bed and get some printer paper and pens. I also bring a hardcover book I’d been reading, placing the paper on top of the stable surface. Then, I hand the pen to the ghost girl.
She takes it, and waits for me to ask her another question.
I comply easily, mouthing off the words that were in my head.
“What is your name?"
On the paper, the ghost girl writes in beautiful cursive, My name is Elise.