I Exist [February short story]

Beams of sunlight spilled across the hardwood floor, turning the whole room a thrilling shade of orange. The distant thrum of the air conditioner hummed in the walls. According to the thermometer, it was 98 degrees outside, but that had never stopped Nole before.

Buzzing with energy, he perched on the edge of the couch, lacing up his hiking boots. His weekly trip out to the forest was always a nice escape from his busy life.

The houseplants hanging by the window swayed in a non-existent breeze. A shadow crossed paths with the beams of light.

Nole stood up, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He gazed at the human shadow sitting in the beam of light. It looked like someone was sitting on the windowsill, but no one was there.

“Are you coming?” he said. The shadow moved, a head turning in his direction. It stood up.

A transparent form stepped out of the beam, like a lens flare. Nole could barely see him when it was so bright.

Ghosts, of course, never showed up in direct light. Their bodies were an optical illusion, growing brighter in darkness. They didn’t evaporate in the sun like a vampire—they were still there, they just happened to be invisible to the human eye. That was how they still cast shadows.

“It’s nice out, isn’t it?” Nole said. His friend moved, maybe a shrug. It was hard to tell when his form was so faint.

“I wouldn't know,” he said, his voice echoing like he was speaking in a cathedral. “Can't feel it.”

“You don't need to feel it to know,” Nole said. He walked towards the door, trusting his friend would follow. “Context clues, my friend.”

“Hmm.”

Nole unlocked his front door and stepped out into the hot summer sun. The humid air hung around him like a blanket. Cicadas buzzed so loud it was nearly deafening.

“You with me?” Nole said. A cold draft brushed his ear.

“I’m here,” Wyatt’s echoed voice hung in the air by his shoulder. He was invisible in the sunlight.

Nole rattled the doorknob to make sure it was locked, then headed down the path to his driveway.

The woods on the edge of town were in easy walking distance. Then again, everything was in easy walking distance. Besides bicycles and sometimes a bus, everyone walked. They were in the middle of nowhere, just a little town tucked in between two mountains.

Nole liked it here. It was quiet, and peaceful. A nice place to come home to after his usually chaotic business trips. He felt bad for leaving Wyatt at home, but Wyatt always said he didn’t mind.

“Someone has to feed the cats,” he’d said. “Plus, the house plants need watering. It’s fine.”

Even if Nole wanted to bring him, he usually couldn’t. Wyatt’s abilities were a last resort. Ghosts got territorial around each other, so it wasn’t safe to bring him.

Oh, right. Nole worked as a ghost rehabilitator. He and his witch friends captured and relocated ghosts, and tried to convince them to move on. Forcing a ghost to leave via an exorcism could enrage the ghost or damage their soul. It was much better to convince them to move on of their own free will.

Wyatt? Wyatt had been a strange case. He was one of the most stubborn ghosts they’d ever encountered. Killed by his abusive caretaker at twenty-two, he remained dormant in the house he’d died in for twenty years. Then, two years ago, the city tried to demolish it to build an apartment complex. He became enraged and caused a series of “accidents” that almost killed someone. That’s when Nole and his friends were called in.

Wyatt, however, was an incredibly angry ghost. He eluded their spells and traps just by sheer force of will. Finally, he’d cornered Nole in the basement with the intent to kill him. Instead, Nole managed to calm him down enough to reason with him.

Since Wyatt absolutely refused to move on, Nole decided to take him in. Once he accepted his death, his temper calmed down quite a bit. Now, he was the official caretaker of Nole’s house.

Nole stopped walking at the edge of the road. The forest was like a great wall of lush green. The familiar hiking trail was nearly obscured by the thick green leaves.

He stepped off the road and plunged into the underbrush, wading towards the path. A flash of silver flickered in his peripheral—probably Wyatt when he passed through the shadows.

Cicadas buzzed in an endless, deafening thrum. Birds sang, and the tree leaves rustled in the breeze. Sunlight broke through the canopy in ribbons, turning Wyatt’s body into a dappled patchwork. Every beam of sun erased whatever part of him it touched.

His head turned in Nole’s direction. “What?”

“Nothing,” Nole said, turning away. “You just look cool in the sunlight.”

Wyatt gazed at his hands. “I think it’s annoying.”

“Sorry.”

They continued walking. The ground sloped downwards. The whole town was built at the top of a hill. The trail was a steep slope all the way to the bottom of the valley. They wouldn’t be going that far today, though.

They reached a fork in the road and Nole stopped walking.

“It’s around here, right?” he said. He’d walked this trail so many times, but the magic here was always a little disorienting.

“You still don’t remember?” Wyatt said. He hovered by the intersection and pulled some of the underbrush aside. A little stone statue of an angel was nestled at the base. Its hands were cupped together like it was holding water.

“You know nature magic gives me problems,” he said, walking over. He knelt down and slung his backpack off his shoulder.

“Then why is this your job?” Wyatt said, arms crossed. Nole pulled a little wicker basket out of his backpack. He flipped the lid up, revealing a bunch of little flowers.

“I’m the only witch in town,” he said, placing one in the angel’s hands.

“Then shouldn’t you be better equipped for this?”

Nole glanced up at him. His head was obscured by a beam of sunlight. His legs were crossed, his headless body sitting in midair.

“I’m not an Earth witch,” he said, zipping up his backpack. “I’m a necromancer. The Earth doesn’t really like me.”

“Then why do you bother?”

“Paying tribute to the Earth every now and then minimizes my bad luck,” he said, standing up. “Bad coincidences start happening if I put this off for too long.”

“Hmm.” Nole couldn’t see his head, but he could hear the frown in his voice.

“What?”

“Do you really believe in luck?”

Nole gave a small laugh. “You start believing in a lot of stuff once you become a witch.”

“Hmm.”

Nole slung his backpack over his shoulder and stood up. “What now?”

“Nothing.”

“How skeptical can you be when you’re literally a ghost?”

“I didn’t say I was skeptical.”

“You sound skeptical,” Nole pointed out. He took the trail to the right. Wyatt emerged from the sunlight and glided after him.

“I find it hard to believe all my bad luck—back when I was alive—was because the Earth hated me,” he said.

“The Earth isn’t the only source of bad luck,” Nole said. “It’s just the source that mostly affects me. Since, y’know. Necromancer.”

“So what was my source?”

“Um...” Nole pretended to think. “How about the evil son of a bitch who killed you?”

Wyatt huffed a small laugh. “I guess you’re right.”

They walked in silence for a while. Wyatt gazed up at the canopy above them. After a moment he swooped up into the trees, disappearing into the sunlight. Nole kept walking, not worried. The object Wyatt’s soul was bound to—an opal necklace—was safely tucked away in Nole’s backpack. He wouldn’t be able to get far.

A pair of silvery legs swung down from a tree branch above the path. The sun was spilling in a big patch, so his legs were all Nole could see.

“Feeling pretty solid today?” he called up. Wyatt didn’t respond. He pulled his legs into the sun and disappeared completely. Nole paused under the tree.

“I was wondering if we should get you some gloves,” he called up. “If you put them on, maybe you could-”

A branch snapped somewhere nearby. Nole brought his gaze back down to earth. Farther ahead on the trail, a hiker was staring at him.

Nole cleared his throat and averted his eyes to his feet. He waited until they walked past him.

“Aww man,” he muttered under his breath, glancing at their back. “They probably think I’m crazy.” A cold draft brushed his ear.

“I thought you saw them,” Wyatt said, sitting cross-legged in midair. Nole made a face at him.

“You should’ve warned me!”

“It’s not my job to pretend ghosts don’t exist,” Wyatt said, examining his fingernails. Nole groaned and kept walking.

“You missed a statue,” Wyatt said. Nole stopped. “Here,” he said, gesturing with his foot. A small angel statue sat by the edge of the path. “You always miss this one.”

“Ah, shoot.” Nole slung his backpack off his shoulder and unzipped it.

“This is like the easiest one,” Wyatt said. “What did you do without me?”

“I had to pay a lot more attention,” Nole said, placing a flower in the statue’s hands. “I used to backtrack a lot more.’

“Aren’t you lucky to have me,” Wyatt deadpanned. Nole glanced up at him.

“Are you okay?”

Wyatt rose higher in the air, eyeing the branches above them. “Why do you ask?”

“Are you feeling angry? Should we meditate?”

Wyatt made a displeased face. He stuck his head through a tree branch. “I’m fine.”

“If you say so,” Nole said, zipping up his backpack. “Don’t be afraid to ask for help.”

Wyatt floated up through the trees without saying another word. Nole kept walking.

The last two statues were easy to find with Wyatt’s help. At last they reached the end of their hike: a little area off the side of the path with stone benches around the center. A big tree sat at one edge, with two statues the size of tombstones planted in front of it. One was carved with a smiling sun, and the other a crying moon. Both were weathered with age.

Nole sat down in front of the two statues. Wyatt’s silvery form hovered above them, visible in the shadow of the tree.

Nole clasped his hands in his lap and closed his eyes. He listened to the noises around him: the birds singing, the cicadas chirping, the light breeze through the trees. The Earth’s magic hung around him, like the moisture in the air.

When he opened his eyes, Wyatt had disappeared. He glanced around and caught a flash of silver by a nearby tree.

“Wyatt,” he called. No response. “Wyatt!”

Wyatt pulled his head out of the trunk. “Huh?”

“Why do you always check out that tree when we come here?”

“There’s a bird’s nest in the trunk,” Wyatt said, gesturing towards the tree. “The babies are almost grown up.”

“And they don’t get freaked out when a ghost sticks his head into their home?”

“I don’t think they can see me,” Wyatt muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Only witches and cats.”

“Hmm,” Nole said. He started digging around in his backpack. “I bet it’s cool to phase through anything. You can see so much stuff.”

“It’s okay,” Wyatt muttered. “I’d rather be alive, but now I can see inside ant hills and stuff. Woo.”

“Err- sorry.”

Wyatt crossed his legs, staring at the ground. Nole pulled his lunch out of his bag.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Nole unwrapped his sandwich. He took a big bite. Wyatt groaned.

“What is it?”

“What-” Nole covered his mouth when he sprayed crumbs. “What does it feel like? To be a ghost, I mean?”

Wyatt sighed, resting his chin on his palm. “It’s really boring if you’re not throwing a tantrum.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really!” he said, voice raised a little. He flailed his hands around. “You can’t go anywhere, you can’t do anything. All I can feel is temperature, and I haven’t smelled anything since I died. It fucking sucks.”

“I’m sorr-”

“Stop apologizing!” Wyatt cried. “Your 'sorry's aren’t going to bring me back. Nothing is going to bring me back. I just wish you’d stop treating me like a time-bomb.”

Nole remained silent. Wyatt hugged himself, fixing his eyes on the ground. “I’m not a poltergeist anymore. I’m your familiar. I have no intention of hurting you. I wish you’d stop trying so hard to keep me calm.”

“Oh,” Nole muttered. He gazed at his sandwich. “Sorry. I’ll do better.”

Wyatt sighed through his nose, his arms crossed. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Y’know, if being a ghost sucks so bad, you can move on right?” Nole said, glancing up at him. Wyatt’s eyes widened.

“Who would feed the cats?”

Nole laughed. “Me, duh. I am capable of feeding my pets.”

Wyatt frowned. “No. I don’t want to move on. I’d have no one to hang out with.”

“You like hanging out with me, huh?”

“Sure. I’ll stick around until you die, and then we can move on together.”

Nole stared at his sandwich. “Oh. Thanks...?”

“Being dead isn’t so bad,” Wyatt said, giving him a coy smile.

“You were just complaining about how boring being a ghost is.”

“Sure, when you’re the only one. Ghosts can touch each other, though,” he said, linking his fingers together. “I’d die again just for some human contact.”

“Wyatt, ghosts are like betta fish,” Nole said around a bite of his sandwich. “Another ghost would probably obliterate you.”

“What if the ghost was you, though?”

“Are you hatching a plan to kill me?”

“Noooo,” Wyatt said innocently. “And anyways you’ll be an old ghost, so if anything I’ll kill you.”

“I’m uncomfortable with this conversation,” Nole said. Wyatt gave him a big smile.

They trailed off into silence. Nole ate his sandwich.

“Y’know, I could start taking you on missions,” Nole said thoughtfully. “You can’t go in the field, but you could hang out with Dalton. Help him assess information.”

“Dalton is scared of me,” Wyatt said. Nole made a skeptical hum.

“Dalton asked me if it was weird to date a ghost,” he said. Wyatt raised an eyebrow.

“What did you tell him?”

“I said ‘yeah, but when has being weird ever stopped you before?’.”

Wyatt laughed. They were silent for several minutes. Then,

“Oh. OH. Was he talking about me?”

“What other ghost does he know?!” Nole exclaimed.

“I don’t know! You work with ghosts!” Wyatt said, flailing his arms.

“Yeah, we convince them to move on! You’re the only one who’s stuck around.”

Wyatt buried his face in his hands. His skin looked bluer than usual. After a moment he raised his head. “So you think it’s weird?”

“Everything involving ghosts is weird, Wyatt,” Nole said, crumpling up his empty wrapper. “You’re dead. Learn to live a little.”

Wyatt was silent. Nole stood up. “Are you ready to go home?”

“I guess.”

“What? Do you wanna keep going?”

Wyatt pushed his hair out of his eyes. “No, we should head back. The cats are probably getting hungry.”

“You really love those cats.”

“Bagel is great,” Wyatt said, then frowned. “I’m pretty sure Panini would kill me if I wasn’t already dead. She pushed a box off the fridge the other day and it fell through my head.”

“Is that why that was on the floor?” Nole said. Wyatt shrugged.

“I tried to pick it up, but I wasn’t feeling solid enough.”

Nole laughed. He started hiking back up the trail. Wyatt followed after him.

“Hey, Nole?” he said. Nole glanced over his shoulder at him. “Y’know when you first found me?”

“And you tried to kill me? I remember,” Nole said. Wyatt stared at the ground.

“I was trapped under the basement floor for so long. Just. Seething in my pain and hatred. I wanted to kill him so bad.”

Nole remained silent. Wyatt wrung his hands.

“When the construction workers let me out, all I could see was him. I wanted to kill everyone I saw.”

“But he’d been dead for fifteen years,” Nole said. “He died of alcohol poisoning soon after he murdered you.”

“I didn’t know that,” Wyatt muttered, rubbing his arms. “I knew the house was empty, but I thought he’d moved out. I’d been poisoning his dreams.” He hesitated. “I thought he’d come back to destroy my body. I had no intention of letting him.”

Nole stopped walking. Wyatt chewed on his lip. “But then you showed up. You told me he was dead. That was all I really needed to hear. I’d been consumed with rage for twenty years, thinking he was alive. But he’d died soon after me. I’d driven him crazy.”

“What’s your point?” Nole said. Wyatt’s gray eyes met his.

“Do you know what day I died?”

“It was sometime in August, right?” Nole said. He nodded.

“It was twenty-two years ago today,” he whispered. His eyes shone. “I’ve been dead for as long as I was alive.”

Nole felt emotion rise in his throat. “Wyatt. I-I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Wyatt muttered. “I just... wish I could’ve been alive for this. To know it gets better.”

“Wyatt-”

“I’m... okay with it,” he said, staring at the ground. “I’m okay with being a minor character in your story. As long as I get to exist at all, I’m happy.”

Nole’s eyes burned. He blinked rapidly, reaching out to him on instinct. His hand brushed Wyatt’s.

They both jolted back.

“Did you just... touch me?” Wyatt said, eyes wide. Nole stared at his hand.

“I-I don’t know. I think so?”

Wyatt hesitantly reached out. His hand passed through Nole’s arm. His shoulders sagged. “I-I guess not.”

Nole reached up and clasped Wyatt’s hand. His skin was like holding snow, but he was solid enough Nole could get a grip.

“I don’t understand,” Wyatt said, eyes wide. “You’re touching me. How are you touching me?” he waved his other hand through Nole’s arm. “Why can’t I touch you?”

“I don’t know,” Nole said. His skin burned from the cold, but he was afraid to let go. What if he couldn’t get ahold of him again? “Maybe this is a necromancy thing. Some necromancers have touched ghosts before.”

“Your hand is so solid. Is everything so solid? I’ve only felt temperature since I died.” Wyatt looked shell-shocked. Nole pulled on his hand, wrapping his other arm around him. He squeezed him tightly.

Wyatt laughed. “You’re hugging me! I can’t believe you’re hugging me!”

“You are so cold,” Nole muttered, shivering. “It’s like lying face down in the snow.”

“S-sorry, I-”

“No, it’s fine,” he cut him off. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”

Wyatt heaved a sigh, but his body didn’t move at all. He was so still, it was like hugging an ice sculpture.

“Are you breathing?” he said.

“What? No,” Wyatt said. “I’m dead. I’m just an imprint of my memories.”

“Gods, that is so weird,” Nole said, pulling back. Wyatt floated into the air again. “How can you sigh then?”

“I remember breathing.” Wyatt shrugged. “I remember talking. I can make the sound without needing the air for it. I’m just a projection.”

“And somehow I can touch you. And you can touch certain objects.”

“No, I can move certain objects,” Wyatt corrected. “I don’t actually touch them, I just bend reality enough to make them move.”

“How do you even know this?”

“You’re the one who told me!” Wyatt exclaimed, flailing his hands.

“Aww, you mean you actually listen to my rambling?”

Wyatt rested his head in his hands. “Let’s just go home.”

“Okay, but-” Nole held out his hand. “You gotta hold my hand.”

Wyatt’s face turned bluer. He placed his hand in Nole’s.

“Fine.”

“Wyatt,” Nole said, squeezing his hand tightly. “I’m glad you exist.”

Wyatt blinked rapidly.

“Me too.”

[END]