The Ghost of Lost

“I am the ghost of Christmas Lost.”

The book in my lap dropped to the floor as I jerked awake.  He, at least I assume it’s a he because of the deep, smooth voice, was rather hard to see.  I suppose a typical ghost is some see-through specter.  He actually looks made of glass, only alive.

This is not one of those situations you can really fathom your reaction.  I find myself trying to actually see the features of an invisible man in the dark.  I finally realize that we are both staring.  He is gauging my reaction; and I, my sanity.  I’m not one for snappy comebacks but I don’t think anyone can blame me for staring.

“Lost what?” I ask when the silence finally got me.  “Toys, socks in a dryer…uh…time?”

I am not the best when it comes to being witty.  He, on the other hand, said nothing.  Probably second guessing the idea of haunting me, or maybe he was actually no longer there.  Of course, perhaps I am not thinking deep enough for my imagined specter.  My eyes look around for a moment before I turn back to the see-through haunting and try again.

“Lost people….hopes…
                                                …Promises?”

“I have come for you,” he tells me.

Perhaps I’ve read too many stories, but a ghost saying he has come for you is usually not a good sign.  I immediately start thinking about reasons for my haunting.  Part of me scoffs that I’m actually taking this as reality.  Still, dream or reality his few words really bother me.  With everyone at home, including my mom, sick, I’ve been the nursemaid and I’m at my limit.

“So, are you here to tell me I’m a lost cause?”  I wince as those words came out harshly.

“No.  No!  I need your help.  I mean, I’m the Ghost of Lost, and you’re the Finder.”

I think I am more surprised by the hint of personality than I am by the declaration made by the glass specter in the living room.  A finder, he called me.  If only that were true.  Then I would be able to find time to do my homework and hopefully sleep.

“What does that even mean?” I ask.

“Something important has been lost.  You, as the Finder, must come with me.”

Can I be forgiven for the desire to jump and go right now?  I guess I just want to run away.  Even if it is just an escape in my dreams, I want a break.  Logic says it should be a dream, but I do wonder.  No one has woken me telling me that they do’nt feel well.  I should stay and take care of everyone, but I want to go with this specter.

 “Okee-dohkee,” I say with a shrug.

“Really?” he asks.  I think he was expecting more skepticism.

“Sure, but no formalities.  I’m not going to call you Ghost, so what’s your real name?”

“I have none,” he says, but he seems to relax.  “You can call me whatever you want.”

I stand up and see the book I was reading on the floor.  I pick it up and look at the cover for a moment.  I study the ghost, trying to make out features.  It is kind of hard to do when the light is very dim and the ghost is hard to see.

“Hmm…I would say Charles,” I tell him, saying the first name I had seen on the book cover.  “But you don’t look like a Charles.  Not like I can actually see you that well.  But you don’t seem like a Charlie either.  How about Chaz then?”

“I’m fine with Chaz.”  Shadows shift as he tilts his head a little.  “And you are?”

For a moment I hesitate.  I have the feeling that the moment I give him my name, I will have to go with Chaz.  Despite wanting to escape my life for a break, I feel oddly guilty like I’m forever changing my life and graduation goals.  And yet I feel like I must.

“Amy,” I say as I hold out my hand.  I’m surprised at how warm and real his hand feels.