Ghosts (Book 1 Part 8)

I managed to get through the first week of class having only missed the one day, but there were a couple times that I did have to drag myself out of bed. Paul would drone on and on about whatever he wished to convey to us, still very pleased with his sense of humor regardless of whether or not any of us students were. Will and I took to buying a bottle of rice wine at lunch to finish off before the lessons of the afternoon bored us further into oblivion. By Monday of the second week, we took to buying another to pound down during our break. By Tuesday of the second week we would also meet in the morning to do a little drinking before class. I don’t think Paul even noticed as he was so pleased with himself about the manner in which he taught the class. He did warn me that I was not allowed to miss another day or I would not get my certificate.

Wednesday of the second week marked the midway point of the whole three-week course. I was already a little loaded by the time I returned to the hostel. I threw my backpack in my room without any further thought to the homework assignment. The assignments were nothing but our opinions on what he had discussed that day in class, and I treated them as even less than that.

That night Will had decided he would not go drinking with me, as we had hit the bars fairly hard for several nights in a row. I was slightly pleased that I had worn him down, primarily since he did go to class on a day I missed and it served my pride to know that I could outdrink him in a different manner.

It was quite an international night at the hostel bar. I played pool with a group of South Africans, a mix of black and white and no sign of the apartheid that seemed to be thrown in everyone’s face two decades prior. I had a few beers with a local Shanghainese fellow who seemed to appreciate something about me, although we could not at all communicate. He spoke in Mandarin, and I in English, and nothing seemed to matter for a time. I avoided a large group of French people who talked loudly and seemed to strut around the bar like peacocks, or that could have just been my animosity toward Jack manifesting itself in my imagination. As nine o’clock rolled around , I was on a sofa speaking with a couple of young German girls who obviously didn’t know me that well as they did not flee in fright and they even attempted to be cordial.

I was just waiting for the time.

At 9:05 pm, I decided to excuse myself from the meaningless conversation with the German girls. They were both pretty, one was borderline beautiful, but I could tell that all we would do is talk if I opted to stay. They were also very young and I was getting tired of pretending to care about the things they were spouting out of their mouths.

I decided to sit at the table that she would appear near, and eventually be in the middle of, as ghosts can walk through anything. Maybe I was feeling bad about Vera. Maybe I was feeling bad about you, Arthur. Whatever the reason, I could not get that little girl out of my mind.

So, I waited for a very short time before she appeared. She didn’t disappoint, arriving right on time. To be precise, she arrived at 9:07:23 pm.

Sometimes one can have so much sex that it becomes meaningless and boring. Other times, if one is me, he can drink too much and not care about sex. Often it is a combination. I ignored the German girls giggling at their table, while they watched me seemingly watch nothing. I am sure they were wondering why I cut the conversation short and then sat by myself. They cannot see what I see.

The little girl continued her nightly ritual. I sat, transfixed. I am still not sure why I cared so much about this particular repeater. I’ve seen many horrific repeaters, and she seemed comfortably occupied. I also wondered if her soul was there at all or if she was merely an echoing memory of a soul that is already content. I do not know why ghosts haunt, at least the repeaters and the partial specters. There may be nothing left of them and it is just an eternal video for those of us who are able to watch.

The partial specters, as I have decided to call them, are those who are actually partially transparent. They are repeaters too. They are what most people think of when they think of ghosts. They are only remnants, as most ghosts initially appear to be of the physical world. The partial specters can often be of only one color, usually a neon sort of glowing essence. In some ways they can be scarier than those with grotesque and horrific wounds. They seem the most unreal, fantastical and even provocative. They are otherworldly shapes that are often most frightening. They are all around us too, and I know more than anything else I have knowledge of that they cannot be helped.

Still, the girl was a repeater, and not a partial. The repeaters appear most physical, except of course, when they walk through objects that are physical. They repeat in one place. But, they look as real as beings encased in living flesh. I would have to watch a repeater, especially a normal-looking, non-horrific repeater walk through a wall before I would realize that he or she was a ghost.

I watched and watched and watched. That darling little girl seemed so happy. Her repeat phase lasted exactly five minutes and forty-three seconds before it repeated. She never altered a thing. I was feeling that it had to be some sort of memory left behind, forgotten. I had never paid that much attention to repeaters before.

Before I even realized it, the time was after midnight and the hostel bar was closing. I was almost forced out of my hypnosis to be manhandled to leave. It had been close to three hours with no refill on Scotch or beer, and I was suddenly ripped away from my intent study. I suppose they thought me a little weird. I had probably been seemingly staring off into space for three hours.

As I left the bar I promised myself that if it were at all possible to help a repeater, I would help this one.