" Carla stumbled to a stop."I'm not a freaking ghost. So don't call me one," Brenda snapped, quite uncharacteristically."I was going to say spirit," C...rla quietly said. "I didn't mean to insult." Oh, shit. I didn't mean to, either," Brenda said. "It's just that I feel so ... strange. I don't know what is wrong with me. And you're right; I can't see how I could be sick. I have, generally, the same feelings I had when I was alive, though, minus a few things like a body, for instance," she. At least now her refusal to let me anywhere near her groin for the last few days made even more sense. “Is it sore?” I asked. “No but it’s really sensitive.” “Well let’s see…” I said, dropping to my knees between her open thighs, more excited than I could remember. I lowered my face to her groin. “CB? What are you doing down there?” “Shhh. I just want to help,” I purred, extending my tongue in the way I knew she enjoyed. “But I’ve got to stay clean, CB. I’ve got to... Oooooh that’s nice!” And. I pushed a button on a remote control box on my desk and adjusted the dial to one (out of ten). At first nothing seemed to be happening. Then Seshawn and his hoods started to take off their coats and hats. ‘Hey man, it’s getting hot in here. What did you do?’ ‘Nothing compared to what I could do. Do you want me to heat the room up for you a little bit more?’ ‘You’re bluffing man, you probably just turned on the furnace.’ I turned the knob very briefly to four and then back down to one. The. Rainthuds. Zerowind. Fingers of mist rolled off the roofs of my neighborhood houses which looked like giant ships anchored in a dead calm sea of darkness. Depression. Hopelessness. Sensitivity. I'm 18 year old Chase Ellison, and I'm sitting on the rainy front stairs that lead up to my suburbian home, lonely, still and blank. My black nike hoodie drenched, only revealing the lower half of my face, between droplets, I look down, unmoved, like a concrete statue, as if waiting for something to come.
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