Karl (6)

     The evening that Steve and Karl met was dreary. Wind battered at the poorly-sealed panes of the apartment windows, sending short rasps of cold air catapulting through the poorly insulated domicile. Steve sat on his tastefully brown couch, sipping a hot cup of chamomile and honey. The TV was tuned to The Price is Right, and the host yelled in excited tones about a showcase that would soon be won. It was about as exciting as television could get, and Steve wished he could be a contestant rather than an employee.

     Karl hovered about six inches above the couch, watching silently. In the months since Steve had moved in, Karl had been quite pleased with him as a roommate. The initial television set up had been less than ideal, but it was soon remedied. Steve worked most of the day, which left Karl alone to watch whatever he wanted, and to contemplate whether or not cats were able to see the recently deceased. Most of the time he felt invisible, but on rare occasions the fickle tabby would plant herself on the floor and stare right through him. It was unnerving, but being dead, he felt that he didn’t have much time to care about it.

Despite the apocalyptic tone that the weather had brought on outside, the apartment was serene. Steve’s phone gave a loud buzz from the table indicating that there had been a flood nearby.

Shut it, she’s about to win, Karl thought, and retrained his focus on the TV. He had not yet revealed himself to Steve and had no plans to. The entire process seemed like an emotional mess that would be draining and take time away from watching the television. As such, he cursed silently, and remained invisible.

     “Alright, just one more, and then the showcase is yours,” the host said. The TV audience applauded, the lights in the apartment flickered, and then everything went dark. The room was engulfed in silence, broken only by the wheezing wind moving through the trees outside, and the occasional spatter of rain on the greying windows. From the floor, Steve’s cat awoke briefly to let out a yowl, indicating her displeasure with the situation, and then promptly fell back asleep.

     “Damned storm,” said Steve out loud and searched for a candle and matches. Power outages used to scare Steve (mostly due to an adult fear of the dark that was laughable), but he had since created an emergency kit to alleviate these concerns. Fumbling around in the dark he wished that he had sprung for the glow in the dark marking tape. Imagine if Felicia was here now. Felicia was Steve’s ex-girlfriend who enjoyed long walks by moonlight and sleeping with other men. I told her the kit was a necessity and she made fun of me. Who’s laughing now? Three hundred miles away Felicia sat with another man, perfectly content, and not giving two shits about Steve’s emergency kit.

     While Steve was looking for the kit, Karl counted to ten in his head, attempting to quell his rage. Missing the end of an episode reminded him of the life he had lived, and brought with it far too many unpleasant emotions. The last thing he wanted was to become a poltergeist. Karl’s pale form grew red with rage. Ghosts are unable to hide their emotions, as there is no physical form to contain them, so they come out as colors instead. Karl looked down at his hands and his frustration grew, sending them to a red hot. Soon it was too much and he gave in. “God damnit!”

     Steve turned and froze. Standing in the living room was a red hot outline of a person. Chills and heat flushed through every inch of his body producing the curious feeling of floating within his own skin. Words were trapped in his throat and replaced by a half-hearted screech that barely managed to trickle past his lips.

     Karl turned towards him and put out his hands in a placating gesture. The red began to fade to a lighter pink as embarrassment took over for anger.

     Steve watched as the figure reached its arms out for him. It took a few shambling steps forward, bringing with it a torrent of cold air. “Who are you? Get out of my apartment,” Steve said in what to most would have been an unintelligible whisper. He feared that he would piss himself. Luckily, his bladder was far too frightened to function.

     Karl waved his hands, hoping to diffuse the tension. “Woah, easy there. Hello, I’m Karl. Nice to finally meet you.”

     Steve blacked out.