Tuesday Mooney Talks To Ghosts Novels & Stories

I have curves now, like my mom. Now I can see Mr. K washing his Porsche. He has a business on the internet and makes gobs of money working from home. Mrs. T is some kind of consultant. They hire her to fix broken companies. She left Monday to go out in the middle of the country somewhere. She'll be gone for a week. I'll miss her. I've had some really good conversations with her. Nothing trashy, just good real-world advice about everything. "Hey, Molly." Mr. K shut off the hose. His expensive car gleamed in the afternoon sun. "Tanner's out by the pool."

Red mutters, nodding toward the bar. Ghost is hunched over, surrounded by empty glasses and fresh ones the guys keep shoving in front of him like they’re fueling a machine. He just stares into the amber liquid as if it personally offended him, muttering under his breath. I catch fragments: “three… curse… demons… disaster… fucking end of the world…” “He’s struggling,” Red says. “He’ll be fine,” I whisper, though even to my own ears it sounds halfhearted.

Marcus, the quiet guy from accounting leaned against the door, arms crossed, with a bitter smirk twisting his lips. “McAllen,” he said. “You’ve been looking real happy lately. I see you enjoy your late night with the boss.” My stomach dropped. “What the hell are you talking about?” He stepped closer, I could see the jealousy in his eyes. “ I saw you leaving the private elevator. Looking like a man whose ass has taken some cock. You’re not the first, you know. The Ghost destroys anyone who tries to get close. You’re just the latest toy.” “The Ghost?” I laughed it off, but my voice sounded shaky even to me. “Sounds like some movie legend bullshit.”

When I turned back around, I noticed a new note pinned to the table. It was the same familiar handwriting, but the strokes seemed to carry a hint of chill this time. "Squanderer." I froze, then started laughing out loud. So this ghost couldn't just cook—she was also a thrifty, budget-conscious woman. I liked that. I immediately grabbed a pen and wrote back, "Sorry, Ivy. I was just joking. From now on, let's stick to regular dishes. I won't bring up such ridiculous things anymore." I made sure to apologize sincerely.

Alex asked, while Milo picked a parking spot near a long line of others already crowding the drive. “No,” I admitted, voice small but honest. “But I don’t think that’s really an option anymore, is it?” “Not really,” Milo said cheerfully, killing the engine. “Welcome to White Morning territory.” Here we go, I thought. Into the wolves’ den, except this time, I was the guest, not the prey. At least, that’s what I hoped.

Cosmo asked. "Who are you?! Come out now before I make you come out myself!" I shouted and raised my shaking hands. I could feel my hair extending and descending to the floor in its haze form. "Don't let me repeat myself, come out," I commanded harshly. A tub of lard ghosts stepped out of Gomez, and he sniggered. An evil one. "Wow, she's commanding," he taunted. Another one, only thinner, came out of Twyla.

Why? "Good evening Molly Moon," the chasen said and Molly threw her head back. It just spoke. The chasen just spoke. And not just that it knew her name. Her real name. "My name . . . You know my name," Molly said. "Yes. We all know your name. You are very special and we have been looking for you a long time." "What?" "Please come with me," the chasen said and even stood aside to give her way. Her voice sounded like it was computer generated and had two pitches; like there were two people talking at the exact same time.

Gaping monsters grinned madly. They shifted as if alive. I dropped the lighter, screaming. The stop went silent. “I, I'm- fine,” I stammered. They forgot me instantly. All but Mo. He looked at me oddly. “I knew you were losing it. I blame mom and all the turpentine around the house.” “No, I- I just remembered there's a huge exam today I haven't studied for.” Mo laughed. “Of course you would. You need to loosen up,” he advised, returning to his music.

“Eli’s men. It’ll look like we’re hiding something. We need to appear… grateful. Cooperative.” Moe, ever the pragmatist, had nodded, his glasses catching the flicker of our single candle. “It’s a leash, but we have to wear it for now. But we’re not sheep. We need our own plan. A watch. Just us three. We take turns, every night. We catch this… ghost.” He’d said the last word with a venom that surprised me.

Even if she did, she'd blame it on the wind. "Ghost?" Sharon was becoming concerned, "I thought you don't believe in such things?" "Really? Oh, em." Geneva cleared her throat and spoke confidently, "that's true, I am not scared by flimsy things such as ghooosts!" The last word Sharon heard was the word 'ghosts' being screamed into her eardrums before she heard nothing else. The phone had fallen and disassembled and the call, disconnected.