The green light on the recorder flicks on.
“Is there anyone here with us tonight” the man asks. He is sweating and probably looked even worse than normal in that nightvision camera they always use. The camera man swung around capturing the other two people with them. Another man and a woman looked on to the proceedings, occasionally casting their gaze to the ceilings as though ghosts would flock to the great arched heights like birds.
“Yep,” I say. I saw this show before. I’m surprised they haven’t faked anything so far this episode. Really is interesting to see how they film even if they have no idea what they’re doing.
“What’s your name?” the woman asks. She’s cute and must be a new addition to the show. Last time I had a chance to watch it was just the two guys, the fat one and the skinny one. Like Abbott and Costello meet the ghosts. Unless they already made that movie? Shit. Now this is going to bother me. You really do learn to take Google for granted.
“Tom,” I sigh. This is the third time this month I’ve answered that question.
“If you can, speak into the green light, it will let us hear you,” says the skinny guy.
“I know what a tape recorder is,” I say. They always give the dumbest instructions. It’s never like, ‘say the winning lottery numbers.’ Always, “what’s your name, are we alone here.” Why even ask that question. If someone is answering you clearly you’re not alone.
“Are you alone here?” The cute woman again. She seems very dedicated and in to the whole situation. I bet she wants to be an investigative reporter or something and this is her big break. Good for her.
“No,” I say.
Who’s here with you.
“Who’s here with you?” the fat guy asks.
Hah! Called it!
I look over, Jeff gives me a thumbs up and a big smile. Grim grinning ghost he is not.
“Jeff,” I say. I wish I could check the time but I didn’t wear a watch the day of the accident. Can’t beat myself up over it, hindsight after all. Jeff is just excited because there’s another team here. The last one he tugged on a guy’s sweater and brushed some poor teenage girl’s hair. The guy screamed, she fainted, and Jeff fell over. After that he couldn’t stand up for two days, he was so weak, but it’s all he will talk about anymore. Not like we get CNN or anything, so that’s the closest we get to current events. This just in, Jeff is clearly going to try again.
Everything is so rote now. They pull out the meter, I wave in front of it, they shit themselves when the green lights dance across the surface.
You know, maybe the show is fake and we’re the first to actually respond. I mean, we haven’t seen any other ghosts since the accident. Restoring some 14th century castle, you’d think there would be some creepy dead princes or something wandering around. But nope. Me and Jeff, brothers in arms since 2005.
What if we’re flukes?
“How did you die?”
“Stop asking such personal questions! Jesus that’s rude,” I say. Jeff shoots me a look.
“What, I didn’t ask her about how she plans on dying! ‘Oh, you and your asshole friend fell off some scaffolding, spoooooky.'”
“Are you a King? Or a Queen?” Jeff mumbles something into the recorder. Yes Jeff, haha, I get it, I’m the queen. Thanks, prick.
The skinny man stops the recorder and plays it back. Here we go, these guys have a camera crew, they seem legit, let’s hear those melodious pipes of mine.
‘Are you alone here?’ – static –
“It said ‘help me!’ I heard it!” says the fat guy.