“The worst thing that could happen to me already did, and it wasn’t caused by a ghost,” Micah said. “My life is already bad vibes.”
“Don’t say that. It can always get worse.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“Not supposed to be. But I’ve got this friend who does house cleansings. She’s real in tune with otherworldly stuff. She could probably help.”
“Will she burn some sage in my living room then charge me fifty bucks?”
“Nah, she mostly does this stuff for free. Aside from cleansings, she has EMF meters, EVP recorders, and all kinds of tools for detecting and communicating with ghosts. I moved out of my last place before I knew her, but her clients swear by her. Lemme give you her website.”
Micah wrote down the address as the operator gave it. The ghost hadn’t done anything threatening, but he couldn’t sleep, and his mind registered every unusual noise or shadow as an intruder. Cosmo had to go.
Sitting on the rug with a strange woman, a crystal ball between them, was out of the question, but if she had any investigative tricks or suggestions of things he could do to fix this, that would be useful.
“Her name is Déjà Solano. Tell her Darryl referred you.”
“Darryl.” Micah never wanted to know their names. Anonymity kept a safe distance between them. They could chat and he’d draw and then they’d go their separate ways. But now he felt compelled to introduce himself. “Thanks. I’ll send her a message. I’m Micah, by the way.”
“It’s been a pleasure, Micah. You wanna keep chatting, or you have your fill for tonight?”
He wasn’t sure what was worse – drawing in silence at his desk, or lying wide awake in bed to a ghost playing eighties synth.
“I’d like to, but I think I need to address this ghost problem.”
“Gotcha.” Darryl’s voice lilted. “Talk to you tomorrow maybe, huh?”
Micah smiled. “You never know.”
He ended the call, then opened his laptop and navigated to Déjà’s website. He’d expected something with casual fonts and horrid color combinations, coupled with a cheesy headshot, simply because “freelance ghost evictions” didn’t sound like something that came with an air of professionalism. But a soothing scheme of navy and smoky gray splashed across the screen. A pop-up greeting directed him to the navigation bar. It listed options with various prices:
Paranormal Investigation – buy me a coffee
House Cleansing – cost of materials ($5-10)
Séance – $50
Automatic Writing – $200
What in the world was automatic writing and why was it so much more expensive than an investigation?
He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, suddenly incredibly weary. Even the thought of reading a paragraph on a website was exhausting.
An investigation seemed unnecessary since he already had evidence of ghostly activity. And a séance was out because didn’t you have to hold hands at a dining table for that? They couldn’t both be in the studio at the same time. Maybe he could just email the woman and see what she recommended. He found her contact form and listed all his evidence, along with pictures. Hesitating, he mentioned that Darryl had talked highly of her, then hit submit on the form.
After climbing into bed, he propped his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. Déjà would show up with her sage and magic charms, letting psychic energy guide her to the source of Cosmo the Ghost. She’d wave a quartz pendulum and tell him it was okay to let go, to stop suffering.
If that’s all it took, it almost seemed unfairly easy. Micah’s bottom lip pushed up, a sudden and unexpected ache in his chest. Crystals and kind words didn’t work on the ghosts inside ofhim.
He pressed a pillow over his face, hoping it would absorb the tears in the corners of his eyes so he could pretend they were never there.
His phone vibrated with an email notification.
Darryl!! I haven’t talked to him in months. He’s got a birthday coming up. I’d better get him something.
Sounds like you need a cleansing. Happy to help you out. Shoot me your address and I can be there tomorrow morning.
–Déjà
