How Curiosity Killed the Cat and the Ghost Was Brought Back

Second Chances

The sound of footsteps pounding against creaking floorboards echoed throughout the manor, rattling the empty beer bottles and soda cans surrounding Stretch, Stinkie, and Fatso whilst they enjoyed the remainder of the baseball game playing on the TV. As the noise continued, the three ghosts exchanged some annoyed faces.

Stretch scowled and craned his neck to properly yell, "hey, keep it down!"

Kat didn't bother looking in the trio's direction when she passed by, responding with a noncompliant "fuck off."

There was no time to waste. They had to get this figured out, fast, and she didn't know where else to turn to other than the door of her dad's study. Her fist knocked against mahogany. Her mind raced. Her heart felt like it was going to stall at any second. She was seconds away from calling for her dad like a child, but she knew as long as Casper lingered behind her, she couldn't give that away. She could feel his gaze burning into her back as they stood there, waiting for an answer.

The door creaked open. Behind a pair of bifocals, gentle eyes quickly turned concerned. James wordlessly ushered the two inside, only speaking once the door was closed, "what's wrong?"

Kat shifted her jaw as she prepared to translate her panic to words. She looked at Casper in hopes that he might be able to provide a better explanation than what she was about to spew out, but all he had to offer was a blank face.

James sat on the edge of the desk, removed his glasses, and began polishing the lenses with his sleeves as he waited with an expectant raise of an eyebrow. Kat could recognize his method of quiet observation, how he evaluated all of his clients. She could also see that his display of patience was gradually revealing some amount of discomfort as he awkwardly shifted in place. It had been so long since he had any chance to do some real parenting. He had no idea what was in store.

Kat finally spoke, "so, do you remember that stuff about how ghosts forget things after they die?"

James' brows drew together in confusion. He nodded, still silent.

"There might be a little more to it than we thought."

What ensued was the longest therapy session Kat had ever endured with her dad, and she wasn't even the patient. Given that Casper didn't exactly have enough knowledge on hand to provide enough answers for the initial evaluation, Kat was the second best source to fill in the gaps. Questions only multiplied as the hours passed- like those monsters in Greek mythology, when their heads are cut off and several grow back in place- the questions would never meet their end unless they could uncover the true source of it all. That didn't seem to be a possibility.

Kat couldn't recall when the sun began to set, but it was already dark outside. She had to turn on a lamp to see the pages of the book she held, a journal her dad had been keeping to record his observations on ghosts. The pages were filled with years worth of notes on the "physical" characteristics of ghosts, habits, and everything they had been told directly from either Stretch, Fatso, Stinkie, or Casper- though it was impossible to tell how much of the ghostly trio's insite was factual. James had gained more knowledge on the afterlife since living in Whipstaff than at any other point in his career, but even he was at a loss for a proper course of action.

"The best we can do at this time is to be mindful of your behavior," James explained.

Casper listened to every word intently, and rather wearily. His eyelids fluttered as he fought against the temptation to doze off. Kat had never seen him like this before. Based on what she had learned just from living with the McFaddens, ghosts didn't experience fatigue in the same way as the living. As her dad had described in his journals: without a physical vessel that regularly exerts energy and requires constant maintenance, there's nothing for spirits to be affected by. With all of that in mind, none of this was good.