Givvup, the Ghost: A Bine-Hairy Situation

Good news, people of the ether!  I've met someone!

I know, I know...It's unlikely, to say the least! After all, I spend all my time in a burnt out house on the edge of town. And I'm a ghost, so how would I ever meet someone?

Gosh. I'm a ghost. No one can see me. Talk about being doused by a bucket of ice water. Wow.

It's true, though, so I suppose saying, "I met someone" is a little bit of a stretch. But I did!

Here's what happened:

I was just hanging around, minding my own business, when I heard someone. Let me repeat that:

I HEARD SOMEONE.

A human being! Do you know how long it's been since I have heard - or seen - another human? Ages! After being all by myself for so long it actually scared me! I jumped so high I went through the ceiling and found myself looking at the carpet in the second floor hallway. I hate that thing - it's charred and brown and rats have claimed parts of it for their nests. It probably smells. In fact, I know it smells, because HE said so.

Oh, can I tell you about HIM? He's a genius, I'm sure of it. He's tall - maybe six feet? - with brown hair that won't lie flat, no matter how many times he tries to smooth it (which really isn't all that much) and glasses.

So dreamy.

Anyway *ahem* - where was I? Oh yes, I was sitting in the room, wondering if the air vents would be a good way to travel, when I heard footsteps and a deep voice muttering. I told you already that it startled me straight through the roof.

Who on earth could be in my house?

I slowly slunk down the side of the room and to the hole in the wall - you know, the one people walk through? - and I saw him.  He was in my food room - not that I ever use it - and was digging through the drawers, talking to himself.

"I know I left it here," he said. "I know it's in one of these drawers."

I moved closer. Well?  Wouldn't you want to know why someone had put something in your kitchen? He stopped what he was doing and slowly turned. He looked right at me! Or rather, right at the place I stood. He took a step toward me.

"Hello?" he asked (could he really see me?). "Is anyone there?" His eyes looked through me, toward the door behind me, and then shifted away. He must have been satisfied that no one was in the house because he went back to searching the kitchen - albeit a little more quietly, and more than once throwing glances over his shoulder.

I was crushed.

How would you feel if you thought for a moment that someone would see you, but then realized that wasn't going to happen?

Yeah, exactly. Pretty crummy.

I didn't have long to feel sad because the guy yelled, "Gotcha!" and put his hand up in the air - VICTORY! His other hand held a small, green square covered in silver dots and with a couple wires attached to it. He put the little, green board in a backpack, slug that over his shoulder, slammed the drawer shut and turned to go.

What else could I do but follow him?

It was easy, obviously. Even with his hood pulled up over his head and the sudden cuts he made that resulted in him taking an odd, zig-zagging path through the city, following him to the brick apartment building was no challenge.

He opened a poorly painted beige door halfway down the hallway on the third floor. He shook the hood off his head and pulled off his backpack. After retrieving the little circuit board he tossed the pack into a corner of the small, one-bedroom apartment.

"Okay, my little beauty," he said, and I was suddenly jealous of that small square. "Let's see if you'll work."

He pulled a plastic chair to the messy desk that sat against one wall and opened the black case that had been resting there. I inched closer to see what was inside.

It was a computer - I was pretty sure of that. It was certainly crudely built - pieced together like a computer version of Frankenstein's monster - but it had a screen and a keyboard.

The guy, himself, suddenly looked a little like a mad scientist. He sat hunched over the desk, holding the small circuit board and looked at it with a mix of relief and excitement. He carefully turned the computer over so it made an awkward triangle with the desk's surface, exposing wires and some more of that green stuff he was so reverent of. In the middle was an empty space, square-shaped and about the size of the piece he held so carefully.  He picked up a small screwdriver and a pair of tweezers and, with hands as steady as a surgeon's, inserted the newest piece of the computer. After attaching the wires he gently turned the whole thing over so that it sat upright, at attention, ready for business.

"He we go" the guy said, and he pressed the primitively attached power button. The machine turned on with a quiet whir, and the guy smiled to himself. "Brian Nazaret," he said to the empty room. "You are one seriously cool dude." He sneezed then, which upset his glasses, and he sniffed as he used his forefinger to push them back up to the bridge of his nose. He scrubbed a hand under his nose and shook his head in disgust. "Darn dust."

The computer, in the meantime, had settles on a black screen, and a white cursor was blinking, waiting to be told what to do.

"Alright," Brian Nazaret (that cool dude) said. "Let's do this." He set his fingers on the keyboard and as he typed the most bizarre thing happened.

I WAS PULLED INTO THE COMPUTER.

You wouldn't believe what a power suck computers are. Seriously.

Also, I want you to imagine that you're stuck behind a pane of glass - you know, like those things you look out of? - but that you're right up against it. And the giant on the other side (because I had somehow shrunk to fit inside the screen), that giant can't see you.

I pounded on the glass. I yelled.

Nothing.

So frustrating, let me tell you.

With all that I figured I would settle in. What else was I going to do? I looked at him (so cute with his eyebrows drawn together in concentration) as he started typing. I heard the tapping of the keys, and in the next instant I felt myself being drawn back, away from the screen. Symbols appeared, letters and numbers falling in columns beside me with loud crashes and bangs. I pivoted sharply to avoid being crushed and sprinted to the side. I ran full speed toward the screen, hoping I could break out of the computer.

I fell to the ground with a crash that rattled my brain.

Then Brian spoke, muttering, I'm sure, but in a voice too loud for my small size. I slapped my hands over my ears with a yelp. "Alright, boo. Let's build a little something. Maybe a game, just to see if you're working."

The column of letters and digits lined up and stacked with more intention. I ran toward the screen again and whirled around, trying to read what he was typing:

while feeling_brave:

    ghost_door= radiant(1, 3)

    print ('Three doors ahead...')

What on earth was he doing?

I had no time to consider because the letters shifted and sorted and fell into a new formation: zeros and ones now surrounded me.

"What is going on?" I asked. My voice echoed in the silence. "What is happening?"

And then I shrieked, because out of the rows and columns rose a door. It was made up of tiny squares, like something out of the old video games my brother used to play, but it was clearly —
Just a minute.  

Wait.

I need a minute.

I had a brother? Was he at my funeral? Why wasn't he with the crying lady?

Why can't I remember him?

Sorry. Where was I? Oh, right, the pixelated door that rose out of the floor. It opened and I ran through it, slamming it shut behind me.

Brian of the loud voice yelled and then jumped back from the chair. I squinted up at him through my side of the screen. His head shook and his mouth hung open. Fear, and possibly excitement, showed on his face.

"That's not what I typed,” he said in that magnified murmur. I wished he would have quieted even that to a whisper. "I typed, 'print ('A ghost is behind one.')' Ghost. Not....

Annie."

He pulled his chair close to the desk again and bent over the computer once more. "Annie?" he bellowed. (Well, it sounded like a bellow to my ears, at least.)  "Why would you replace 'ghost' with 'Annie'?"

My world turned upside down as he flipped the machine over. "No!" I yelled, suddenly terrified that he would pull that green board out, the green board that had allowed the computer to start. "No!" I yelled again. My terror grew as Brian disappeared completely from my sight. "Not okay!" I screamed.

I felt myself grow - I willed myself to grow - and the strangest sensation filled my body. I grew warm - hot - and my fingertips zapped with electricity. I felt the computer tumble; Brian must have dropped it. With a final burst of energy I exploded from the computer, leaving it smoldering on the desktop.

I didn't even spare a glance for Brian as I fled from the room. Home, that's all I was thinking about.

And I made it. I'm not going to lie: I was a little nervous to start up the GhostWriter tonight. What would have happened if he had cut the power while I was still inside? I don't even want to think about it.

There's a lot I don't want to think about.

And on that cheerful note, I'm signing off. I'll catch you on the flipside....when you get here. Wink emoticon.

Ugh. I'm going to have to work on that.  

Till next time, then.