theattic | PSL: STOP. IT'S SPOOKY TIME

"Man..."

Maurice Hutch sat at the far end of one of the long tables in the West dining hall with his chin in his hands. He'd really let himself go--his favorite Ozzy shirt hardly fit, his hair nearly reached his shoulders and the bags under his eyes would be pretty hard to pass as carry-ons on any airplane. He was staring intently at the boys a couple of seats down from him talk about last night's game in an animated fashion but it wasn't the football he cared about.

It was the plate of spaghetti the taller one was letting get cold.

"You're gonna waste that, aren't you? You're just gonna sit there and run your mouth and then it'll be time for third block and you're just gonna throw it away."

Neither of the boys heard him. In fact, nobody in the bustling dining hall did.

He'd been dead an entire year and a half and he'd been trapped in this particular school for half a semester. Nobody talked to him. Nobody looked at him. And the worst part was that it honestly didn't feel that different from when he'd been alive.

"Just take one bite of it! For God's sake! FOR MY SAKE!" He slowly lowered his head to the table but the gesture wasn't strong enough to create an audible thunk.

Edited 2015-12-22 09:35 (UTC)

Hanna had been driving around in his shitty car, searching for something for who even knew how long. Well. He knew, but it didn't really matter much when what you were looking for, most of the world didn't believe existed. And it wasn't like some sort of science that he had theorized, it wasn't some animal he was looking to discover or some lost city. No.

Hanna Falk Cross was wasting his twenties away searching for ghosts. Transfer after transfer at Targets across the united states, he followed stories posted on the forums, looking for the real thing, and each time, thoroughly disappointed. At times, he wondered if his search for "no seriously, legit stories I want to find proof" kind of tips was in vain, but...he had a good feeling about this next one.

Rolling in to the parking lot of the university, he leaned over into the back seat, grabbing his phone, a tape recorder, and what looked to be a food thermometer with a probe sticking out the end. He had his basics, and despite living in his car for a majority of these journeys he took, his equipment was at least half decent. He stuffed it in a back pack, grabbing his keys from the ignition and took a deep breath as he stumbled out into the light. But, those few steps was all it took to get his stomach rumbling. Can't hunt ghosts on an empty stomach, he supposed.

And, with that goal in mind, was how Hanna walked into the dining hall, expecting food, and actually ending up with something far more valuable in the end.

Walking down the rows of seats and tables in search of some actual food at the end of the hall, he stops dead, blinks, and then blinks again. Was it just him or could he see the trash left on the table through that man sitting at it. "Ho-lee-shit." he mouthed softly, not even caring as someone bumped into him, stumbling that much forward. It was all the encouragement forward he needed.

"W-wait! Wait, sit up again! You gotta pose for me!" Says the crazy ginger running towards an empty table, scrambling to pull his phone from his pocket to take a picture.

Maurice didn't look up--he didn't respond at all. That shouting couldn't possibly be directed at him. It never was. He just kept glaring sideways at that untouched spaghetti abandoned by the sportsfans. The young ghost reached fruitlessly for one of the forks and managed to make it quiver there on the table, but that was all.

Hanna could have peed himself he was so excited. Did that fork just move? Probably just a fraction, but, wow! Wow!

"Oh my god, you're like the real fucking deal!" He says, much closer than he had been before. And, since he's still kind of freaking out, he reaches to touch the ghost and slips right through him, catching onto the table. "W-woah." Oops. What a shitty thing to do when you first meet someone.

"Sorry, I uh. I didn't mean to get all up in your business."

If Hanna hadn't touched him, Maurice would have gone right on mourning the loss of the spaghetti. Or perhaps eventually drifted off to go make the fetal pigs the bio kids were having to dissect today twitch on the tables.

When the other boy's hand passes through his shoulder, Maurice's image fluctuated as if he were a disturbed reflection in a pond. It was not an entirely welcome sensation. The ghost turned to send what he assumed would be an unseen frown at his intruder but was startled to find that Hanna was looking right at him.

Only then did he process what the guy had been saying.

He did a double take--between Hanna and the empty table. Was it. No. That wasn't possible. Was he really looking at him? He was looking at him. He was actually looking at him!

"It's-- uh!" Maurice babbled and instantly stood--sort of. The toes of his sneakers hovered a good foot off the tile and he kept backing up, starting sentences and cutting them off. This was the first person who'd spoken to him in over a year and now he didn't have the slightest idea what to say! His edges flickered and for a second he looked like he might go out like a candle. The air dropped a good ten degrees.

"Can--can you--are you--?"

ARE YOU REAL, HANNA?

Hanna shivered, and it was good. His eyes were so wide they might explode. He didn't care if he looked like a fucking lune at the moment, he was far too excited and the students around him kind of kept their distance, crazy little ginger talking to himself. Especially when he was as hysterical as he looked. "I can! I really can! Dude, dude. Wait! Dont fade out on me, really i want-" Someone bumped into him, causing him to stumble, but he caught himself on a chair.

He didnt even care if it was on purpose or not, there were more important things to be had right now, but... he swallows, feeling his palms start to sweat despite the cold, "wait, wait. Lets...follow me. Or can you?" He didnt want to talk like this in front of everyone if it meant getting kicked off campus. "W-we could talk somewhere less crowded?"

Maurice looked around with a lump in his incorporeal throat. If Hanna could see him...could OTHER people see him now? But as he looked, he didn't see a single pair of eyes locked on him, the floating boy in the middle of the dining hall. He wasn't disappointed for long because the one was still talking.

"I--uh. Okay. This way." He moved past Hanna like a breeze and looked behind him as if he were the one seeing the ghost. Once he reached the end of the room he passed straight through the wall. If Hanna followed through the nearest door, he'd find himself led out back to a little alley between the dining hall and a small administrative building.

In natural light, Maurice was much harder to see--like a spider's web without the dew on it. He was hugging his arms to himself and muttering. Oh, God, it's finally happened and he STILL didn't know what to say. What if this guy found out he was a loser? He didn't look like someone who'd seen a lot of ghosts. What if he was disappointed? Maurice wasn't sure he could take an eternity knowing that!

He clutched his hair and frost settled on the pruned-to-death bushes on either side of the sidewalk.

Edited 2015-12-25 12:08 (UTC)

Hanna was kind of happy when Maurice phased through the wall, because when he did, he kind of squeaked like an over excited child might and practically bounced to the door, turning the knob and heading outside. When he did, man was it cold. He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself, feeling it a lot more than he had inside. It even touched the edges of the leaves around them, and he wondered if perhaps, maybe, this was a bad idea. He had heard about stuff like this before, but he hadn't thought it would be so obvious. If he walked back inside the difference would be incredibly noticeable.

Still, he was determined. He'd been traveling all this time for a glimpse right? This was more than just a glimpse, even if he was much harder to see outside than inside.

"Woah man, that's crazy that you can totally change the temperature. It's like, frigid right here. Look! Look at the leaves! Dude that is hella cool!"

When Hanna appeared, Maurice grew even more nervous. And the worst part was he couldn't even hold his breath!

"It is?" Maurice turned in place, slowly, as if he were suspended in water. He considered the plant sadly for the moment and for somebody who looked like he should be cramming Hanna into a locker, his voice was far away and small. "Oh. That happens sometimes."

He backed away from the frosty plants until he was nearly in Hanna's personal bubble.

"How can you see me? You don't look dead at all..."

"It is," Hanna repeats firmly, nodding as if he were clarifying that yes, Maurice was the coolest in the whole world. His smile grows a little though, at the sound of the other man's voice, at the way he moves, the way he talks. Hanna hadn't ever been she persay, but he could tell nerves when he saw it, all too familiar with them. He leans forward, just a little, a hand to his ear, "Sorry, didn't quite catch that last part." Though, he was still smiling. It didn't bother him at all, just he honestly wanted to hear every word.

"Anyways, I'm...yeah. I'm not dead, super alive, and I'm what you could call a paranormal investigator! Though, Amateur ghost hunter works too, I mean. Either or. That and I'm a cashier for Target, but that's not really important right now. What is important is that you're totally dead, and while that's not cool, I mean, that you're dead and all, it actually kind of...is, too." He takes a deep breath, unable to spit out all he needed to say in just one go, and that grin grows, his mouth stretched from cheek to cheek. "You're like one of the first ghosts I've ever talked to, and you're super chill! Like, in the nice calm way, and not the cold way, but I'm sure you get what I mean. Uh, wait wait, I'm sorry. I didn't even introduce myself."

He steps back, stuffing a hand in his pocket and finds his business card, obviously created on some shitty art program with a mouse and Tahoma size 12 font, "Hanna Falk Cross, at your service!"

So many words! And they were all directed at him. Even if a little of what Hanna was saying was starting to worry him, the corners of his mouth were TRYING to twitch upward.

"So you're like a...a Ghostbuster. I love Ghostbusters. I think." WAS HANNA HERE TO BUST HIM? He didn't seem to have any overly dangerous-looking machines. And he seemed so happy to see him. Nobody had been happy to see him since...ghosts did not have a great grasp on the passage of time.

Without thinking, Maurice held out his hand to take Hanna's card. It passed right through his fingers.

"Whups." He started to bend down and try to grab it off the sidewalk but stopped himself. No good. "I used to be Maurice Hutch. I'm pretty sure." When he leaned back up he tapped his noggin with a finger and a weak smile. Up close, it was easier to see that his bangs were hiding a grizzly headwound.

"Naw, naw more like...trying to be a bridge and talk with the dead. I'm not out to bust anyone. Though, I figure if you were more of an evil spirit I might try, but you seem pretty chill," Hanna says in almost one breath. "You could call me a ghost buster though. That'd be hella cool."

He watched as his card passed right through Maurice's hand and felt a little bad for offering it since, well. What is a ghost going to do with a business card, but he didn't seem too bothered. In fact...

Hanna's eyes went wide as Maurice tapped his head, squinting at him in the light because he was far less visible out here, but he could see the edges of his wound, hissing between his teeth. "Shit man...what happened? I figure you never really got to talk about it and that sucks...need a load off?"

"Um..."

Maurice suddenly found himself faced with a choice. He fretted, biting his lip, and glancing away with his dark eyes. He could lie and make his death sound WAY cooler than it actually was...or maybe even say he didn't remember--because he really didn't remember some things. But he'd already given his name and if Hanna did enough digging...he'd find out eventually. But he really wanted to seem cool! THIS WAS SO HARD!

Suddenly, he flickered right out of sight.

Hanna, who had been waiting patiently enough for who he was, rocked back and forth on his heels. This was so cool. A ghost. And he was talking to him, and they were getting along and DID HE MENTION THIS WAS SO COOL?

He was just about to maybe ask another question when his new ghost friend just up and poofed. He blinked, blinked again and took his glasses off to rub his eyes, squinting into the space in front of him. Shit.

"Awww man! Really? I finally meet a ghost, he's super chill and then poof!" Excuse him as he looks halfway between tantrum and crying. IT HAD BEEN SO GOOD. And yet it had only lasted like ten minutes tops. He sighs. Maybe...if he sits here, he'll come back?

Hanna's patience, sure enough, was rewarded.

It started with a slight chill. Then, like a spiderweb in a sunbeam, Maurice's hollow shape reformed itself a few yards away where the building cast a shadow.

"Um..." He repeated as though he hadn't just dematerialized and sent Hanna's confidence as an investigator tumbling. "It's not important. But it doesn't hurt. I don't feel anything at all actually. It's okay."

PSL: STOP. IT'S SPOOKY TIME

CREEPY PASTA

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