House Ghost ONC 2022 LONGLISTER

Chapter 1: The Ghost

POV: Grey

Do you think humans realize they're responsible for the extinction of so many species? Honeybees, panthers, polar bears-- and ghosts like me.

With the dawn of the electric age, humans kept burning bright lights on longer and longer into the night, leaving no time for the darkness we needed so badly to recharge. Ghosts tried to appear to humans when they first invented the lightbulb, trying to ask them to stop. But they just saw us as monsters or illusions, so they pushed us aside and worked harder to set up light in all corners of the darkness. Even our typical haunts of street corners and basements were taken from us, constantly lit up with miniature suns. Did they know they were killing us, or just didn't care about the consequences of their actions?

For ghosts who knew "the good days," it's no wonder they've slowly fled to the wilderness, the last places they could escape the light for a few hours. But I wasn't around then. I've only ever known surviving in a world fully lit 24/7; I can't imagine spending my days out there.

That's why I live here, in this tiny storage attic in some human's town house apartment. Whoever owns this place doesn't come ever up here, so I have the space to myself, but it doesn't keep me from getting bored sometimes. And when I get bored, I tend to do things without planning the consequences...

9:05 AM. Over half an hour has passed since the slam of the front door vibrated through the floorboards. It's been silent since: no music, no footsteps, nothing. Surely it's safe for me to come out by now. Besides, I've been cramped in here since the weekend; I won't wait any longer to stretch my limbs.

After several minutes of pushing, I manage to crack open the trap door. With a little grunt, I squeeze through and jump out. Ghosts might be invisible and fit through small spaces, but we can't go through walls.

Dusting myself off, I glance out the window. It's raining outside, dim and dreary. I can't help doing a little dance. Today is going to be a good day. The human never returns before it reads 4:00 PM. Plenty of time for myself.

I breeze down the stairs in excitement, eager to enjoy the rest of the house to myself. As I turn the corner, pain stabs my eyeballs and sends me reeling. The human left a trap activated in the ceiling! Did they know I was coming? Should I turn back?

No, never. A little burning light penetrating my particles isn't going to stop me. Covering my face, I frantically search for the switch to deactivate the electric fixture. My fingers brush the stub on the wall and tug it down. The light snuffs out in an instant, replaced by soothing greyness.

As my eyes adjust, I take in the human's apartment for what must be the thousandth time. Just like every time, I go towards the most important spot first: the refrigerator. Ghosts can't really eat or drink, but I can taste and smell. Thank goodness this human likes chocolate milk and not kefir or I would have found another attic to live in.

Humming a snatch of music that's stuck in my head, I rummage through the drawers and clench my fist around a straw. Then I reach for the chocolate milk.

"Stupid humans and their stupid weighted objects," I grunt, needing both hands to twist off the cap. After several seconds of struggle, the bottle loses to my attack, giving up its prized liquid.

"Yes! Take that, nesquik. Your chocolate milk is mine." I jab the straw into the bottle like a victorious gladiator. I know I can be a bit dramatic over small things, but when you live alone, have no friends and can't go anywhere without fear of slowly dissolving into pain-filled particles, you need something to fill the void.

I rummage through the cupboards, grabbing a couple mini candy bars and an orange. Heading into the living room, I sit on the worn out leather sofa that's quickly become my favorite seat.