When in doubt, count to ten. That was mantra when I was alive. Now I am dead, possessing a woman who is wearing jeans and feeling an allergic reaction coming through. I wanted to scratch at the arms of the woman but I wasn’t there to hurt her, I was in there to have fun. NO matter how uncomfortable I was.
“Tim, FYI, you are not supposed to play practical jokes on your fellow ghosts. That gig is for humans, not ghosts. Stop kidding around,” I tell him after I did count to ten and did not scratch at the arms.
Tim kept staring, wide-eyed but this at me. “I am not playing, Em…I can’t get out.”
“That is impossible. There is no room for two souls in one body for a long time, maybe it’s because you feel uncomfortable in that body. You know sometimes it’s not a quick thing to get out of our target,” I tell him as I pick up a fork and try eating food. I taste nothing, as usual. Ghosts can’t eat, not even in our targets.
“EM” I look up at his shriek.
People start looking over at our table. I wave at them to let them know everything is ok and glare at Tim. “Keep it down, try it again, please,” I tell him, abandoning the fork.
“I did, several times now, I am stuck and I do not like this. This is your entire fault,” he tells me, folding his arms and sending me a glare of his own.
“Again, you are crazy and it is impossible to get stuck inside our chosen targets,” I tell him, crossing my arms in return.
“Try it, go on, try getting out of the girl you are in,” Tim almost growls at me.
“Fine,” I tell him. I close my eyes and imagine myself on the outside of this body. Nothing happens, I imagine myself in my dress that I have been wearing over two centuries, again nothing. I try it one last time; it is like there is a barrier. I cannot get out of this body, now panic grips me. “This is impossible,” I whisper.
Tim unfolds his arms, “there, now you believe me Em. What are we going to do?”
“This never happened before. I think we need to find an older ghost than me,” I tell him, this time taking the coke and drinking until only the ice jingles. I tasted nothing but the throat of the girl felt better.
“I thought you were the oldest,” Tim tells me thoughtfully.
“Nope, we just need to find a Seneca tribe ghost or a Mohawk tribe’s ghost. We need to go to the library and see which areas belonged to them. They tend to be very bound to where they lived, the whole ancestry thing. I hope they can help us because I have no idea what is going to happen if we do not find a tribe’s ghost,” I tell him looking up at the skyscrapers.