How a Ghost Feels

Melvin said I wouldn't feel like a ghost, but I do. My toes hover inches above Stacy's fluffy rug, blond like the hair splayed across her pink pink pillows. "Okay," I mutter. "...Where's her computer?" I navigate over the minefield floor, thinking over Melvin's instructions. Hacking for beginners. I've got this.

A screeching noise. I turn to see a figure dive through the window. They're wearing a black cloak and a 'Scream' mask. We share an awkward stare before they pull out a knife. I cover my mouth to stifle a yelp.

They step forward. "I'm here for the same reason you are."

Whimpering, I shake my head.

"She's a bully. Nobody'll blame us."

"I was just changing her grades..."

"She deserves worse."

"No."

"No?" They raise the blade over their head.

Now I know Melvin was right. You don't know how a ghost feels until you actually are one.