Thanks to SuzyJane and Miss-You-Too for reviewing and letting me know that I had forgotten to separate the paragraphs!

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Yams: A Ghost Story
Chapter 2 is Something New

The guy became determined to "catch" me, although what it means exactly to catch a ghost, I don't know, and I suspected he didn't really know, either. He also didn't know that when his family bought the house, they technically caught me, since I couldn't leave. All minor technicalities. He set up video cameras in each room of the house, and consulted with a professional ghost hunter via email. I was kind of impressed with his tech-savvy, how he made it look so easy to convert the tape to digital format and send it to the ghost hunter.

The tape became kind of a big deal in the online ghost-hunting community, and I could clearly see that he was proud of himself because of it, so every night I danced around in front of the cameras and talked more into the recording device, but I was still invisible, and now again unable to be heard. One night, I was rifling around in his room, trying to figure out what exactly he studied (something to do with computers), when I had an idea. I could move objects, I could hold objects, I could be visible after all. Excitedly, I grabbed one of his textbooks and flew to the nearest camera. I made the book dance for the camera, and flipped the pages and opened and closed it repeatedly, trying to make it really obvious that the book was, indeed, being held by me, the ghost.

The next morning I was impatiently watching the news with the couple, when their son finally came downstairs and gathered his cameras.

"We're happy to let you have your hobbies, Son," his dad said without looking away from the TV, "but when the semester starts, don't let it interfere with your studies." The boy nodded.

"Yeah, okay, Dad." Then he ran upstairs, and I flew through the ceiling up into his room. I waited impatiently as he rewound the cameras, and plugged them into a large TV (yes, he had a small and a large TV in his room). The images appeared on the screen, each taking up one-fourth of the space, and each playing simultaneously. He pushed the rewind button on the audio recording device and sat watching the TV screen with rapt interest. I watched too, waiting for the floating book. He looked down to mess with the recording device, and the book appeared on one of the images, floating around playfully.

"You idiot!" I shouted, though he couldn't hear me. "Look up!" He looked up and caught the end of my book dance. Furrowing his brows, he hit the rewind button on the camera, and when he replayed the footage, his mouth fell open, and he started making squeaking noises. I thought for a minute that I had broken him, but then he came back to his senses, and unplugged the cameras, plugging that one back in. The image now filled the whole screen, and he paused it. The book hung in the air, open, the pages facing the camera.

"Holy shit," he said suddenly. "Holy--holy shit!" He launched himself into his computer chair, and did all his tech-savvy stuff, sending the footage to the ghost hunter. Then he left the room, I assumed to eat breakfast. I stayed and eyed the computer. I was kind of curious as to whether or not I could use a computer. I hadn't ever really thought about it. Sighing nervously, I hovered over the machine, and poked a button on the keyboard. Nothing happened. The key went down with the pressure from my finger, but it didn't make the computer do anything. Perplexed, I grabbed the mouse and started moving it around. I could see the little arrow on the screen moving.

There's something I guess I should explain before I go any further into this. I can move and hold objects, yes, but it takes effort, and the more precise the contact, the more difficult it becomes. For example, writing. Holding a pen and writing on a piece of paper is practically impossible for me. But grabbing a book and throwing it or whatever would not be all that hard. So, I moved the cursor around, and was about to push down on the button when the computer made a beeping noise. Startled, I passed through the mouse, the desk, and the computer. The boy entered the room, and sat at the computer, holding an already half-eaten banana. He deftly moved the mouse, clicking it. The hunter had responded to his email. Very enthusiastically. I think the guy said "Oh my god" about three times in a row, then went on and on about how amazing this footage was, and how it will change people's beliefs about ghosts. Then he asked to come and see for himself.

"Say yes, say yes, say yes," I chanted in the boy's ear. I saw the hair rise on his neck, and he rubbed his ear, looking concerned for a second. I was also concerned. No one had ever had such a physiologically visceral reaction to me being near without touching them. Naturally, when someone would walk through me, sometimes they would get the chills, but that's different.

He opened a blank page, and before he could start typing, I slammed my hand down on the keyboard. A few letters appeared on the blank page, and he cried out, shoving himself away from the desk. I began to slowly type

hi i am becky. Tired, I stopped. He warily scooted closer to read what I had typed.

"Becky?" he asked himself. Then he seemed to shake off his fear and began typing. Hi, Becky. I'm Adam. How long have you been here? Did you die here? I gathered my strength and replied.

yes 26 years. I assumed that he'd meant how long had I been here after I'd died. He blinked at the screen for a minute, then replied.

How old were you when you died? What unfinished business do you have? Are you dangerous? If I had been alive, I would have blanched at how much I was going to have to type. Again, I gathered my strength.

17 none not dange. He nodded.

Why can't you be seen? Why did I only record your voice once? How can you touch things without passing through them? How did you become a ghost? I stared at the last question for a while. How did that happen, indeed?

donkno I typed back. Every time it was harder to type. When I had played Mario Cart, I hadn't ever done it for very long. I had played for a few seconds, pushed the pause button, and rested, then resumed. It was frustrating that my ability to communicate was so limited, but at least I could communicate at all, right?

Is it hard for you to type? All I typed in response was a 'y'. He nodded. Well, I guess I can leave a word document open for you so that you can type as slow as you need to. I want to know the following: What was your life like before you died? How did you die? What is it like being a ghost? Do exorcisms work? Can you leave the house? Are there any other ghosts in the house? He opened the word document and erased our conversation, typing a quick email back to the ghost hunter, saying that he should definitely come, and as soon as possible. After he'd sent the email, he left the word document open and moved to the bed. I typed yay, and he went back to the computer to read it, laughing as he sat back on the bed.

"I guess it's lonely being a ghost," he said. I nodded even though he couldn't see me.

"Who are you talking to?" his sister asked, causing him to jump.

"Damn, Aaliya," he said breathlessly, "you scared the crap out of me." His sister shook her head.

"Still think there's a ghost in the house?" she asked playfully. He shook his head.

"Nope." I blinked in shock. He wasn't going to show his own sister the dancing book? "I guess it was just my imagination all along," he said. I hurriedly went to type something, but my energy had run out, and my hand just passed through the keyboard.

"Damn it!" I exclaimed. "I guess I have to rest." I floated through the window and allowed myself to hover in the air outside. It started raining at some point, and I closed my eyes as the rain passed through me.

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So there you have it, the second installment of my attempt at writing a ghost story. ^_^ Hope it was enjoyable! As always, review and tell me what you think, especially if you noticed something incongruous lurking in there.