Ghosted: A Paranormal Romantic Comedy

by Kat Addams

  Her quickening pulse wasn’t fear. It was adrenaline. I wondered if, when I’d magicked her wings, I’d also somehow magicked her a backbone.

  “Watch who you’re talking to. I’ve got what you want. One more word out of you, and—poof!—it’s gone. Your lover boy here will forever be useless to you. And you’ll become more and more frustrated as the greed takes you over.”

  Claire looked up at me, creasing her brows.

  “She’s—” I started.

  “Oh, ho, ho! He didn’t tell you that, did he? He only told you the good things. He can do this and that. Well, he can also make you miserable. Ahem, look at me. I hide in varmints, hopping from rat to weasel to rodent to stay alive so that I can prevent him from ever being truly happy again. Shame, shame. Shouldn’t have crossed me, Dylan.”

  Cackle, cackle, cackle.

  “What’s she talking about?” Claire took a step away from me.

  “It’s nothing. I was trying to get this all sorted before that happened.”

  “Lies. Such a liar. Did you think you’d get it sorted and be a match for me? Ha! Over my not-so-dead body!” Karen said. Her arm twitched and fell to the ground.

  “You can’t even keep yourself together. How old are you now? A hundred and twenty? You look like death! Go crawl back into a rat and get your energy back. Otherwise, yeah, you’ll have to become a match for me. I’ve only grown stronger. You? You’re dying.”

  Karen grunted, picking her arm up and shoving it back into her shoulder.

  “Lying about what, Dylan? Tell me.” Claire began to rub the wounds on her neck again.

  “As long as he’s out, you’re going to get greedy. It’ll get worse and worse until it consumes you.” Karen grinned.

  “Is that true, Dylan? Is that why I wanted to go down to the basement, knowing it was dangerous? Why didn’t you tell me it was going to do this to me? I don’t want to become obsessed or greedy or anything like that.” Claire backed away from me.

  “Oh, you will. You’ll both become miserable, and there’s nothing you can do about it because I got this!” Karen cackled again, turning around and lifting her robes. Her ass drooped, melting down her legs like a deflated balloon. She bent over, pantyless, exposing a blue butt plug, complete with a witch hat handle on the end.

  “You always did have a stick up your ass, Karen.” I cringed.

  Claire gasped, covering her eyes.

  Karen let her robe fall back to her feet and turned back toward us.

  “Still the comedian. Let’s see if you think it’s funny when I do this.” Karen twirled her fingers in the air, sending tendrils of vapor at Claire’s throat again.

  Claire grabbed her throat and began gagging.

  “Stop! She’s gagged enough, seeing your disgusting, wrinkled, old balloon knot. Leave her alone. It’s me you want. I saw Emry floating about too. Why don’t you punish us both? Claire never did anything to you. You’re only jealous of her. Enough!” I roared, sending a ball of fire directly into Karen’s chest and knocking her over.

  She lay on the floor, coughing up plumes of black smoke. Claire heaved beside me, catching her breath. The vapor vanished.

  “You’re too old. Give me the butt plug, and we’re leaving. It’s done.” I stepped toward her, prepared to take it from her myself.

  “You’ll never catch me,” Karen said.

  A loud pop rang out through the room as she transformed into a gopher.

  “Mom was right!” Claire pointed at the rodent as it scurried toward the front door. “Great Aunt Karen is the gopher!”

  “What the fuck is all of this commotion going on here? I’m trying to get my beats down, and all I hear is a bunch of snap, cracklin’, and poppin’!” Big Glug-Glug appeared, dragging his swollen belly across the black veil.

  I’d always heard goblins were immune to the veil of death, but I never believed it myself.

  Karen, the gopher, squealed, raking her claws across the wooden floors.

  “Ah, hell. You didn’t have to bring me lunch.” Big Glug-Glug unhinged his jaw and stuck out his snakelike tongue, catching Karen by the tail and dropping her in his mouth before I could stop him.

  “Wait! My butt plug!” I yelled, clutching my eyes. They began burning as if someone had thrown acid on them—goblin stomach acid. My life was bound to that sex toy stewing in Big Glug-Glug’s gut.

  Claire screamed, grabbing on to me as I fell back, hitting my head against the floor.

  “Your eyes! Dylan, they’re fading. You’re flickering out. Help him!” she shouted at the goblin.

  “What’d I do?” He turned his fat head left and right, confused.

  “You ate the butt plug. He needs it! If you want that fucking gold chain, cough it up! Now. I’ll use my wish for your chain, just give me the butt plug! He’s dying!” she screamed through sobs.

  Claire’s voice wavered in and out, in sync with my flickering body. I began to fade like a low signal on the genie network. The pain in my eyes seared through me in a scorching heat that made me wish for death. I tried to apologize to Claire. I’d never felt more real or more alive than I had these past few days with her. But I choked on my breath, waving her away. It was pointless now. I was too far gone.

  NINE

  Claire

  I couldn’t make sense of what was happening. My human brain didn’t function in this realm as it did in reality. One second, my great aunt had been back, and the next, she was dead again, eaten alive by a fat, rapping goblin.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Dylan lying on the floor, writhing. His head tossed and turned as he clutched his eyes like he wanted to claw them out.

  “Hang in there!” I screamed at him before turning my attention to the goblin. “I’ll cut you open and fish that butt plug out myself if you don’t cough up that gopher’s asshole this instant!” I lunged toward Big Glug-Glug.

  He yelped, rolled back, lifted a leg, and farted out the butt plug. It lay mangled in a puddle of goo. Or poo. Whatever the fuck goblins sharted out from the pits of hell that were their stomachs.

  “Sorry. It’s all that’s left. Everything else is gone. Doctors give me antacids, but they don’t help.” He belched loudly.

  “Dylan! Dylan! I have it!” I reached for the mangled toy, grabbing it in horror. I choked back a gag and waved it in front of his face.

  His body lay still, limp, and lifeless. His eyes were nothing but a faint glimmer, flickering like a candle in its last moments. I sat up, afraid to breathe. One soft breath, and I could blow those flames out forever.

  “Dylan? I got the butt plug. You can be free now. We can be free. Together? What do I do? Please. Can you hear me? What do I do?” I sat beside him, rubbing his arms as if I could wake him up.

  He didn’t flinch.

  “Stay with me! I wish you’d just stay with me. Don’t leave me alone. Please, don’t go. I don’t have anyone else,” I cried.

  He didn’t answer.

  “Dylan! Dylan! Wake up! Please! Stay with me,” I whispered again to flames that had already died. I stared into his black eyes and saw my dark reflection. I knew I’d never see myself blazing in his gaze again.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When I opened them again, everything was gone and back to normal. The butt plug had disappeared, the death fog had disappeared, the burning wounds around my neck had disappeared, and even that disgusting goblin wasn’t anywhere to be found.

  I picked myself up from the floor and drove back to the hotel, delirious with an ache that gnawed through my chest. I’d never had anyone like Dylan in my life before. I had no friends or family other than my unreliable mother. My ex-lovers had never stuck around for more than a few weeks. In the short amount of time I’d known Dylan, he’d shown me kindness, laughter, passion. He’d shown me the world, both mine and his. Now, I was alone again.

  I burst through the door of my hotel room and frantically searched for the dildo. I thought that maybe, just maybe, he’d magicked himself back into it
. But the toy had vanished too. I let out a wail and face-dived into my bed, sobbing. I clutched the blanket to me, breathing in his smoky scent that still lingered in the sheets. I had nothing of Morningwood left. It was gone, and he was gone too.

  Dylan had said he would free me from this fantasyland and that it would be over soon. He had known I struggled with living in his world. He’d promised to end it for me, and he had. A genie’s promise was binding.

  Two Weeks Later

  I sat at my desk, tapping my pen on a blank page.

  Last week, I’d nailed the article on Morningwood. I’d written a tale of ghosts, witches, and even goblins. I’d spun a fictional story littered with historical facts, and our readers ate it up. I’d also mentioned Fat Sal, who, last I’d heard, had bought yet another car to add to her fleet of rentals. I didn’t say anything about Great Aunt Karen. The last thing I wanted to do was glorify that old hag.

  “Got another one of those wild tales of yours? I think you need to do a piece on the rivalries at FU Fashion Academy. You can spin that into something crazy. Maybe the bully stuff that seems to be all the rage,” my boss said, stopping at my desk.

  “Hmm. There’s an idea. I’ll look into it. Thanks.” I glanced at the clock on the wall.

  It was already time for me to leave, and I hadn’t even written a single word today. Or yesterday. Or the day before.

  I’d poured my heart and soul into the tale of Morningwood as soon as I arrived back home. I never mentioned Dylan. I couldn’t speak his name aloud or write it or even think about it without becoming a sobbing mess.

  I packed my bags and left the night he died. I ghosted Morningwood and everyone in it. I couldn’t even bring myself to call my mother, and she never called to check on me either.

  I took my notebook and laptop and left for home in silence—my new normal. I drove in silence and made dinner in silence. I dressed for bed in silence and lay for hours in silence. I had no one to talk to and nothing to say. The silence was comforting for me because, in those quiet moments, I was able to remember. I remembered the wacky way Dylan had emerged from his magic dildo and how he’d tapped my nose and sent me into a peaceful sleep. I remembered the heat I’d felt as he made love to me, spinning us in the air in a whirlwind of lust, and the way my skin had sparked against his touch.

  But most of all, I sat quietly in silence so that I could concentrate on remembering the fire in his eyes. I felt his piercing gaze like a flaming arrow to my soul. I still felt it if I sat motionless, focusing long enough on my memories. My body warmed at the thought, as if he were touching me all over again.

  I lay back on my bed and stared up at the ceiling, crying again. I’d never known how lonely I was until I lost Dylan. I’d managed to live a simple life just fine. I had been happy with my books and my work. I’d shut out my mom and Morningwood for years, and I didn’t feel bad about it. I was happier on my own. There was less drama that way.

  Unlike my fairy tales, I didn’t need a prince to save me. I’d chosen to save myself when I decided to leave that place—twice.

  But now, I wished someone would save me. I wished I had a mom that I could call up and cry to, or a best friend to come over and listen, or a genie to hold me one last time.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  I sat up, startled. No one ever came to my house, except delivery drivers and the mailman. I didn’t think I had any packages coming, and I surely hadn’t ordered a pizza. I grabbed a tissue and dried my face.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  I tiptoed to the door and peeked out the peephole. A big, dark eye stared back at me.

  “Ah!” I screamed, jumping back.

  “Claire?” a familiar voice asked.

  I grabbed the knife I kept on the entry table and opened the door, ready to strike in case Great Aunt Karen was sending me tricks from her grave.

  “Finally! Do you have any idea how many Claire Jacksons there are in Outer Forks? Jeez! I’ve been looking for you all over the place!” Dylan threw his hands in the air.

  “Dylan?” I dropped the knife and stepped into him, touching his face, his arms, his chest. “This can’t be right. You’re not real. Your eyes aren’t blazing. Besides, I saw you vanish. You burned out.”

  “I’ll pretend I didn’t see that weapon.” He swatted my hands away. “I’m real. You wished for it.”

  “I did?”

  “Yeah. You clutched the butt plug in your hand and said, ‘Stay with me! I wish you’d just stay with me,’ ” he mocked me in a girlish voice before clearing his throat. “Turns out, that’s what saved my soul when I was being burned from the inside out through a cursed magic butt plug dissolving in a pit of goblin goo.” He shivered. “Bet you never thought you’d hear that sentence.”

  “I don’t understand. I thought Morningwood and your realm was closed off to me now.”

  “It is. I’m not a genie anymore. I’m human. Feel.” He took my palm in his, placing it on his chest.

  “You have a heart!” I jumped up on my heels. “I feel it! You have a heart.” I laughed, falling into his chest. I turned my cheek against his heartbeat and closed my eyes, letting the thump, thump, thump of his heart sync with mine.

  He put his arms around me. “It’s all because of you. You used your wish on me. Now, it all makes sense. When my other genie friends burned out, I guess they all went to their human form, unable to communicate back about what had done it. I guess they had friends and lovers wish for them too. Who knows? I might have vanished from the magical Morningwood realm, but I turned back up at the hotel for some odd reason. Maybe because that was where my dildo was. I stashed it under the mattress in case those gossipy maids decided to snoop.”

  “Is that where it was? I went back and looked for it before I left. But I never thought to look under the mattress. I assumed it’d vanished with you.”

  “You must have gotten out of town fast! When I popped back up at the hotel, you were already gone. It was still nighttime. Not sure how much time had passed before I reappeared again though. I’ve been hiding out on the streets and slowly making my way to Outer Forks ever since.

  “Some nice women from a pink taco truck helped me out. They fed me and gave me some clothes. One of them—her name was Nikki—said she knew I wasn’t from this world. I’m not sure how she knew that, but she believed me and my story. She helped me track you down. So, here I am.”

  “I can’t believe you’re real. I’ve spent the last two weeks thinking I killed you. I shouldn’t have made us go back into that house!” I wiped a tear from my cheek.

  He kissed the top of my forehead and held me out at arm’s length. “It was the greed eating at you. You weren’t thinking straight. I should have warned you about that. I’m so sorry. I thought I could fix things before that settled in. I was wrong. You didn’t kill me. You saved me. You gave me a heart.” He tapped his chest.

  “But your flames are gone.” I searched his eyes for a sign of myself blazing back but only saw my regular, dark reflection.

  “Pfft. Who needs fiery eyes when I can now eat Mack Daddies without feeling like shit? Besides, I think I can still do a smoldering stare. How’s this?” He squinted his eyes and wiggled his brows like he was fighting some weird kind of face spasm.

  “Yeah, how about you not do that? We can work on it. I’ll teach you some human things. You have so much to learn!” I laughed, pulling him inside.

  “I never did get that smolder down. Hey, do you think we can grab one of those craft beers you were talking about too? And maybe we can get a hipster.” He kicked the door shut behind him.

  “Get a hipster?” I tugged him toward my bedroom.

  “Yeah. You said you have hipsters here. I’m assuming that’s like a fanny pack. I need something to stash this in. For memory’s sake.” He pulled out his old blue dildo from inside his pants and waved it in front of my face.

  “A hipster is a person! Not a purse. Jeez! Have you been walking around with a plastic dildo in your pants?
I thought you were just happy to see me.” I paused, pulling him into me and double-checking his heartbeat again.

  Thump, thump, thump.

  “Thrilled to see you, darling. Thrilled.” He picked me up off my feet, cradling me in his arms.

  For a moment, I felt like we were floating again.

  EPILOGUE

  Claire

  Three Years Later

  I sat in my home office, admiring the growing stack of fairy tales and paranormal books I’d written.

  Over the years, I’d made a career change, thanks to Dylan’s support. It was a struggle at first for both of us, financially and emotionally. Getting him used to the human world and conditioned for a job was more work than I’d imagined.

  Eventually, things fell into place, and he found his calling as a stand-up comedian at the local nightclubs. He’d brought in so many crowds that he had become a regular celebrity at a popular bar called The Lounge. On nights I couldn’t attend his gigs, I’d sit at home in silence again. It wasn’t the same sad silence I’d put myself through those hellish weeks he’d been away from me. My new silence was comfortable, peaceful, and allowed me to reflect on my journey and how far we’d come.

  My name is Fritzi Cox, and this is my fairy tale, I typed on my laptop.

  “Ah, are you writing our story? With your pen name? What’re you going to call it? Fritzi and The Magic Dildo?” Dylan peered over my shoulders and rubbed the back of my neck.

  “Ha! That title would sure draw attention. I think it’s time for me to write about us. I need to get it out. Before this little one gets out.” I patted my swollen belly. “You know, this will require a trip back to Karen’s place for some research. Mom said she cleaned it up—along with herself.”

  “It’s because all of the bad energy left. Karen’s wicked bullshit probably made your mom’s problems ten times worse. Now that Karen’s out of there, she’s slowly healing. As much as she can anyway.”