Wednesday, July 25, 2018

#QueerBlogWed: Let's Just Talk

On June 27, 2018, P.T. Wyant posted at her Wednesday Words prompt a dust bunny, a heat wave, and a blood splatter.

These original characters leaped out of the long neglected ghosts of Poltergeist the Legacy fanfics never written, demanding a voice. They kept talking, spawning a much larger story than I'd planned to write, which I have yet to finish. :)

This is what I've got so far...


The air was hot, moist, and damp, making her russet blouse cling to her arms and full skirt stick to her legs. Aware of her own physicality in a slimy sense, Caitlin chased a dust bunny from the porch with a broom, grimacing at the amount of grime and filth which had managed to gather. 

It was a never ending battle between Caitlin and the dust, must, and other elements of entropy, one she could never win. 

Contemplating the hopelessness of it all, she saw the blood stain, clinging to the stairs. 

Wonderful. More chaos and death. Just what she needed. 

“You can see it?” A hushed voice, warm and wet as the air murmured in her ear. 

“You’re too close.” Caitlin stepped back before realizing she’d just let the ghost know she’d heard her. 

Marvelous. Another deadbeat stalker to follow her, desperate for the help of a ‘medium’. Not that Caitlin was any kind of medium. She kept her back to the ghost, refusing to give it any more attention than she had already. 

“Get lost.” She attacked another dust bunny with her broom, only to have it skitter away through the bristles. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”

“Why are you talking to me, if you don’t believe in them?” Exasperation colored the spirit’s voice, leaking into the air. 

Some of the plants shivered and drooped at the sound. 

“Because you’re a menace to the few flowers I have. If you had any regard for plant life while you were alive, I’m hoping you’ll show some consideration!” Caitlin transferred her broom to one hand and pointed at the pot with the bent stems. “Because once I show any sympathy for one of you, an entire of army of ghosts show up, all demanding help with their unresolved issues!” 

She whirled to face the ghost, jabbing her broom at the despoiler of the virgin plants. “This is all your fault. Why didn’t you try to live a more meaningful life instead of waiting until after death to figure out you were a mess?!”

The ghost’s lower lip, or what looked far too much like a lower lip began to tremble. 
Maybe that had been a bit harsh, even if it was true. Truth was only too often the harshest thing out there. Most people weren’t ready for it. 

Especially restless spirits. 

“You’re right.” This particular spirit’s face sharpened, lines of care appearing above her rounded cheeks, straight, dark hair falling forward across her forehead, the image of a smiling, sprightly pink haired girl with a sword standing proudly in the middle of her black t-shirt. 

Caitlin found herself softening a little more at the sight of that image. Restless spirit or not, she couldn’t knock this one’s taste.

“I should have led a more meaningful life. It’s not the sort of the thing you realize, right? Make the most of the time you’ve got or else you’ll be stuck in an incorporeal state on a grumpy medium’s porch.” The girl raised an eyebrow at Caitlin.

“I’m not grumpy! Just because I’m not all smiles and seances doesn’t make me grumpy!” Caitlin drew the broom in close against her chest. “Besides I’m not a medium! Not everyone who can see spirits decides to make her whole life revolve around that single ability!”

“Defensive?” The ghost raised hands which Caitlin could no longer see through. “I didn’t mean to wither your flowers. I honestly didn’t. You may find this hard to believe, but the last thing I want to do is antagonize a human who can actually see me.” 

The ghost lowered her head, fixing large, dark, almost soulful brown eyes upon Caitlin. They were entirely too much like a puppy’s, the puppy that stares at you silently, pleading with you to take her home. 

Trying to ignore them made Caitlin feel as if she’d kicked said puppy. 

“All right. Fine,” she relented. “What’s your name and what do you want?”

“I’m Minae. All I want is to talk to someone. Anyone.” Dark hair fell forward, shimmering and transparent around her face. “Just for a little while.”

“You couldn’t talk to anyone while you were alive?” All she wanted was conversation. This was almost pitiful. Especially when she had such great taste in anime. 

“Not with anyone who listened or was interested in the same things I was.” Minae made a half hearted gesture toward her shirt. 

Sympathies locked and engaged. Any misgivings Caitlin might have had evaporated in the heat of her fangirly scorn for anyone who couldn’t appreciate that anime. 

“You didn’t have any friends who shared your interest?” Caitlin bit her lower lip, trying not to relive lonely school days past. 

“I didn’t have any friends.” The ghost’s round shoulders slumped, concealed by comforting folds of shirt. 

This stirred further empathy. Caitlin also favored baggy clothing which hid an ample figure, whether said clothing was fashionable or not. 

“Not real friends.” Minae exposed small white teeth in a mouth which looked only too solid. “Just people I spent time with in order not be alone.” 

This brought back memories Caitlin could no longer shove into the back of her mind, memories of surrounding herself with a crowd. Joining in with a group of other girls, smiling, laughing, not really touched by anything which was said. 

She hadn’t disliked any of those girls. Smiling at them, laughing at their terrible jokes had been easy. Almost natural. Perhaps even a little fun. Caitlin enjoyed acting. Here she was playing the part of someone like everyone else. 

Someone who wasn’t her. 

This wasn’t something she’d understood at the time. Not until she met someone who truly looked at Caitlin for the first time. 



(To be continued next Wednesday, August 1, 2018...) 

1 comment:

  1. Oh, fun. The last thing I need is ghosts withering my plans. My inept gardening takes care of that just fine. ~grin~ Happy Writing!

    ReplyDelete