This appears in a pre-2010 issue of Down in the Dirt magazine.
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The dark, dilapidated den was in total silence; one could hear a spider crawl.
Joel Piarra sat motionless in a chair, surrounded by cobwebs and shadows. Although the atmosphere could not have been spookier, he was not the least bit afraid. He was waiting for someone with anticipation. His heart beat with excitement, not fear.
Suddenly, Piarra heard fiendish laughter echo in the walls. He smiled. This abandoned house was haunted, as he had hoped for.
All the weeks of searching had been worthwhile. He wanted to meet a ghost, and now he would get his wish.
During the past month, he’d read books on spirits. He’d discovered that ghosts reside in secluded places. They prefer dark, quiet houses. They never stray far from where they died.
Piarra had read that specters aren’t often homicidal. However, some of them are mischievous and commit practical jokes. They’re also hyperactive, throwing cups and saucers over kitchens and rings and sewing needles to the floor. Of course, they like to scare people, too.
The house he was in had all the attributes of a haunted residence: It was vacant, it was dim and silent, and someone had died in it.
Soon Piarra would confront a real, genuine ghost! It would be wonderful.
“Come on out; don’t be frightened,” he said. Though it was a stupid thing to say to a ghost, it worked.
A figure stepped out from the hallway and into the den.
Piarra wondered if what he was seeing really was a ghost. The fellow didn’t resemble an apparition at all. He wore a black leather jacket, sunglasses, and cowboy boots, a far cry from the rags and chains of traditional ghosts.
The figure appeared surprised at Piarra’s calmness. “What do I have to do to scare you?” he said.
He didn’t sound ghostly, either. In fact, he sounded remarkably human.
“Boo,” the figure said lamely. “Boo on you.”
Piarra grunted. “You call yourself a spook? You couldn’t scare a toddler.”
“You really know how to hurt a guy.”
“Well, you could do a better job of haunting a house.”
The figure looked embarrassed. “I tried my best.”
“You sure don’t seem spectral to me.”
“Ghosts aren’t always as scary as they want to be.”
“Have you been dead long?”
“No. I died only five months ago.”
“Did you ever think of leaving this house?”
“It’s my home. I’ll never leave it.”
“Are you an evil spirit?”
The figure shook his head. “I’m just bored.”
“How do you pass the time?”
“I think about how happy I was when I was alive.”
“How did you become a ghost?”
“I exerted a great deal of psychic energy.”
“Could I do that?”
“If you try hard enough, you could.”
“Tell me,” Piarra asked, “how did you die?”
“I choked on a sandwich in this den,” the figure replied. “I was rushing through lunch to get to a friend’s funeral. Three days later, I had my funeral.”
“Gee, that’s tragic.”
“You’re telling me.”
“Being a ghost sure must beat being dead.”
“Yeah, I’ll admit it’s better than staying deceased.”
“Say, will you do me a favor? I’d greatly appreciate it.”
“I suppose so.”
“I’d like for you to disappear for me.”
“Why?”
“You’ll find out later. But first, disappear.”
“All right. Here I go.” He concentrated and then he vanished.
“You did it!” Piarra cried. “You’re a real ghost! This is great!”
After reappearing, the figure said, “You seem to be thrilled. What gives?”
“I want to believe in ghosts. You see, I yearn to become a ghost when I die, so I can live forever. Now that I know ghosts are real, I’m happy.”
“I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not a ghost,” the figure said.
Piarra frowned. “Of course you’re a ghost! You acted exactly like one!”
“It was just an imitation.”
“But you disappeared! How did you do that?”
“It’s a trick I learned a long time ago.”
“If you aren’t a ghost, who are you?”
“I’m a hobo who has stayed in this deserted house for a week now. When I heard you come in here a little while ago, I decided it would be fun to pretend to be a ghost and scare you.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m really ashamed of myself.”
“I guess it was foolish of me to believe in a ghost.”
“And it was cruel of me to trick you. Will you forgive me?”
“Sure. What’s the use of being angry?”
“You know, you said you wanted to live forever by becoming a ghost. So why are you afraid of death? You’re a young man; you should have many more years of life ahead of you.”
“You’re wrong,” Piarra said morosely. “I have terminal cancer. The doctor said half a year is all I have. I’m afraid it’s over for me.”
Weeping, he walked slowly out the house. He got in his car, started the motor, and drove off the edge of the cliff. The car crashed onto the rocks below and erupted in a fiery explosion.
Watching the scene unfold from the window, the ghost said, “That sure was a funny trick I pulled on that guy.”
He laughed wickedly as he walked through the wall.
