Nerds get scared, too.

[cab312]

“I was expecting…someone else,” the nerd admitted.

“Like who? Peter Venkman?” I asked, being jocular.

“Well. Sorta. Yea. Where’s all your gadgets?” he asked, being all looking up and down at me.

I produced my divining rod. I began the search for energy residuals.

“That’s it?” the nerd scoffed, being all surprised.

I stopped my movements trying to show how highly annoyed I had become. “Yeah,” I replied, being curt. Then, “I also do palm readings,” I added, still being curt.

“Well. We’ll see how this one goes.”

I smiled a fake smile and continued my search. The divining rod picked up something. “Oh that was a strong one,” I said, being a little more dramatic than necessary.

“A strong what?” the nerd asked, being curious.

“An alpha oscillation,” I replied, being full of shit. “That’s a technical term.” Sometimes you just have to generate your own fun.

“What’s an alpha oscillation indicate?” the nerd asked quite seriously, being hooked.

“It’s like when you’re pregnant, well, not you, but a woman. The stronger and the more fre…” It’s all fun and games until the divining rod leads you down a dark corridor with a howling sound of wind that deafens you in the mist of a phosphorescent swirl of P.P.E. or something.

“Holy crapola!” I heard the nerd shout. And that was pretty much my sentiments, too. I never seen such a thing, and my divining rod was wanting to jump out of my hands. I looked back, the nerd was already gone. When I looked down the hallway again, the swirling whatever was evanescent, gone, disappeared, just as fast as the nerd had. My ears were kind of ringing after that. I was quite disoriented and felt a good deal of confusion in my head. It was as if all my wires were crossed. Nothing made any sense whatsoever. Everything I thought about just seemed liked scrambled eggs. Very slowly my wits returned to me, one by one. Things started ticking and clicking again just like normal. I realized that I was blinking and breathing. That was good. Very good, actually. Then the power of speech returned to me.

“Hey?” I called out, being curious if the nerd was still in the house. But I felt the tug of my divining rod towards the end of the hall where that vortex had appeared. I did not even realize that the nerd had not responded as I began walking slowly down the hall, allowing the tugging to lead me. I was not calm by any means but I wasn’t exactly hyperventilating either. At least not until I saw the vortex opening again and sucking me straight into hell or someplace miserable. But that didn’t happen. Normally when I get such hunches they come true, but only when I am actually looking at something meaningful; thus far, the darkened hallway didn’t count as anything meaning. Well. Not in the sense I was just speaking about anyway. But each silent step on the carpet down the hallway made me acutely aware of the heavy dosage of adrenaline that my body had injected into my bloodstream. It was then that I realized I wasn’t using my flashlight either. “These are interesting times in which we live,” I muttered to myself, but I’m not exactly sure why—that is, I’m not sure why they’re interesting and I’m not sure why I said it.

The nerd had returned. “Hey?” he asked, being all whispery.

I stopped dead in my tracks have the living daylights scared right the hell out of me, and then I waited for my heart to restart. “Jesus! Fuck!” I blurted.

“Sorry! Want me to flip on the lights?” he whispered.

“Yeah. Sure. Why not?”

The nerd switched on the lights and the hallway lights flickered on. But not for long. Just long enough for me to see a picture hanging at the end of the hall for less than a second. I saw a portrait that showed an older man surrounded by his family which by itself isn’t really special. I think what made this portrait special, however, is that all of the children were torsos with bloody stumps, while the old man had a bloody mouth with flesh and muscle melting off of the mother in the photograph. But before I could confirm or express my disgust at the grisly scene, the lights went out very quickly.

“Hey!” I protested to the nerd, being all annoyed at his little prank.

“Wasn’t me!” the nerd yelped, being frightened and defensive at the same time.

Then who or rather what was it? Sadly I didn’t have time to think about the answer to this question. Some sort of ectoplasmic blob enveloped my head. I did not hear anything but I could feel the nerd’s hands grab and pull me back. I remember being impressed at his courage. I tried screaming but I only choked on the ectoplasmic head wrapping. I clawed at it but it seemed impossible to dig through. I stumbled backwards as the nerd pulled me down the hallway away from that accursed photograph hanging on the wall. I fell down on a sofa and the ectoplasm dissipated just before I passed out. I officially no longer needed to create my own fun. Finally, I caught my breath. We sat on the couch straring at the wall for a moment or two just waiting for something to come round the corner. Or maybe an hour. I don’t really know how long, but it was at some point the nerd asked, “what the… what was that?”

I just slowly shook my head. “I have no idea.” But I needed to get another look at that family photograph. I had something go through my head just before the ectoplasmic attack. I needed to spend a little more there, like or not. (Obviously, not.) I stood up and as I turned the corner the nerd yelped, “My god! You’re…INSANE!! Come back here!” but I note that he didn’t get off of the sofa. Perhaps he used up all his courage already.

While it may be true that I am insane, it's that I just had to get another look at that portrait. The light switch was in the ON position. I switched it back and forth and the lights came on. I waited for five seconds which was plenty of time for them to switch off—at least, I thought so. But they stayed on. As I approached the normal-looking portrait, my divining rod stopped registering anything. I stopped and slowly did a 360°; the divining rod indicated that I needed to turn back and walk the way I had just come.

“Well?” the nerd called from the other room, being nervous.

“Not sure yet, I responded, stalling, but being honest.

“Is it safe?” he responded, still being nervous.

“I. I think it is,” I responded, being unsure of myself. But so far everything was cool, but shit can hit a fan amazingly quick. Ignoring the tug of the divining rod for a moment, I moved closer to the photograph when something just sort of dawned on me right the and there: as I approached the photograph it morphed for the normal looking family portrait into the slaughtered, butchered, and bloody family photograph; but more importantly, at least to, me was the coded message splattered across the photograph in bloody glyphs.

The nerd popped his head around the corner. “Everything alright?”

No, but I just shrugged instead of answering. I wasn’t sure what to say to the nerd just yet. “Let’s check the other way,” I mumbled. I moved down the opposite direction of the hallway following the divining rod. And then it directed me up; I looked up and found that I was standing below a hatch leading into the attic.

“Have you ever been up there?” I asked the nerd.

“I don’t think it’s possible,” he replied, being unsure of himself.

“Hm.” I responded, scratching my head and then straightening out my hair. “Ok. Here’s the read so far.” I cleared my throat. “Your grandfather’s spirit is hanging around because of some unfinished business. Somebody’s death, perhaps his, was not a mere accident. I’m not sure, really, we’d need a séance to verify, but if I’m reading all this,” at this time I pointed around to just about everything since the nerd was seeing nothing wrong with the family photograph (just I was), “then that’s what’s what.”

The nerd asked, “What the hell was all that slime on your face!?”

An excellent question. And I admitted as much. “An excellent question,” I replied, being one that is given to stating the obvious. I looked up at the attic hatch. I absent mindedly answered, “it was just an attention-grabbing tactic,” and that was good enough for the nerd, which was at least temporarily rendered speechless. Let's say, every temporarily. A few seconds.

“Well. It sure as hell got my attention!” he blurted.

Yeah. It gone mine, too, you know, when I was writhing on the couch suffocating to death. “Calm down. The spirits can quickly forget what an Earthly existence is like. Life, if you can call it that, is dramatically different in the spirit world,” I explained and the explanation sort of just rolled right off my tongue as if I had rehearsed a thousand times or as if somebody were channeling through me. I really surprised myself.

“Uh huh,” the nerd replied, being somewhat lost.

“You’re gonna need a psychic investigation team come in here and check out the place. In the meantime, let gramps know you’re trying to figure it out so he remains calm and doesn’t try to grab your, uh, attention again. He can’t hurt you.” I looked up again at the hatch, my divining rod was persistent. “Well, not too much anyway,” I said, being semi-serious. But before the nerd could protest or whatever I added, “relax, I’m calling an investigation team from the Lazlo Society in. They’re really good; they have gadgets and stuff.”

“That’s all?” he gasped.

“Pretty much. They’re good gadgets.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind. Just relax,” I replied, being comforting. “It’s not the movies or television, you know. You can relax, seriously, the Society’s very quick and efficient at this sort of thing. I mean it’s their whole raison d'être. In the meantime, gramps won’t have much time to stir up a lot of trouble. And if you’re really concerned, just stay out of the hallway.”

“Much?”

I grimaced. No sense of humor, this one. “I’m just gonna stop talking now,” I said, flipping open my cell phone. I called a contact here and he had a team organized in no time and on their way. Probably before I even hung up. At least that’s what I told the nerd who was visible shaken, and visibly shaking. “I’ll stay here to help hold down the fort,” I caved-in. “In the meantime, do you want me to read your palm?”

The nerd looked at me sideways.

It was late. I was loopy.

“You’re right. Bedways is rightways!” I said, using a horrible English accent; and I headed for the door.

“No. No. Maybe. Ok. What’s my palm say,” the nerd said, being hopefully I’d turn around.

Which, of course, I did.

[Ron Caliburn]

See, here is the sort of situation I hate. Can't shoot it, can't stab it, can't cut it . . . nothing to drive off, no way to protect the folks there.

About the only things I can do when this sort of stuff happens is advise people to move or get the gasoline and matches.

This is why I tend to hunt for monsters instead of ghosts.

[Eilonwy Solstice]

I hope you get it all sorted out, Cab.

[Shadowstalker]

Or you call on people who can deal with such things.

[Doctor Boggs]

Or you call on people who can deal with such things.

Erm, not to put to fine a point on it there Mr Shadowstalker, but that's precisely what he did.

[Shadowstalker]

I know that is what cab312 did, and that was likely the best thing he could do. But I was actually commenting about Ron's ideas, and how he can also call on help. If you have a resource that you can call on, you don't ignore it.

[Natasha]

Cab's correct. There's nothing the ghost can really do. The ectoplasmic head covering was likely an illusion. It evaporated at precisely the moment preceeding unconsciousness and that indicates to me an illusion. Since ghosts and our mind's eye are rooted in the etheric, such as illusion, even a shared one, is easy to believe.

There are three basic strategies for dealing with ghosts. (Spirits and entities are a different matter.)

1. Running water. Hit the fire alarm, divert a river ( ). The running water will cut their ghost's connection to the physical realm. Astral travelers may come across it but it cannot be experienced on the physical plane whatsoever. This is why many monsters such as vampires avoid water: it destroys their link to the physical plane.

2. Wait it out. A ghost's connection into the physical plane slowly decays. Think of the situation of an astral traveler that dies. See #1 if you're impatient.

3. Fulfillment. Sometimes #1 and #2 don't work. There's unfinished business and the ghost won't leave the physical plane until business is finished. Perhaps it's cosmic justice or something. Do the quest, ghost goes away.

It looks like cab is dealing with a Type 3 Ghost. I'm looking forward to the Lazlo team's report.

[Ron Caliburn]

Running water - I'll have to remember that one.

[Eilonwy Solstice]

Wait . . . running water stops ghosts, Natasha? That’s . . . interesting.

[Natasha]

Most low etheric based beings can't cross running water without destroying themselves.
Water doesn't reach into the astral plane (a higher level of etheric) though so astral travelers don't have to worry about water.

I'll get into more details later if you like, but for now I'm up to my eyeballs in work.

[Kei Nakamura]

Makes sense to me, the power required to maintain an EM field underwater is quite daunting. There are reports of naval ghosts such as "The Flying Dutchman", however according to the vast majority of reports of contact with an entity of that size, the compasses and radios went haywire - an effect easily accomplished by an EM field of sufficient amplitude.

[Natasha]

Yip. Ghost ships can be Type 3 (Wandering Jew/Flying Dutchman/unfinished business). They could also be skimming just over the water's surface but that's not likely. Finally, we can never rule collective hallucinations/illusions, especially after a long period of time at sea.

[DarKnyht]

I've never have tried the water, but sea salt has come in extremely handy.

You can also andomly toss rice, split peas, sand, salt (but not sugar as it leaves a sticky residue), coffee beans or grounds, or anything small and granular, on your kitchen floor when you go to bed at night (if that's when the ghosts are most bothersome).

According to folklore, the ghosts will pause to count the grains of whatever-it-is. They aren't very good at counting, so they have to start over again, repeatedly, or they forget the numbers.

Clean up the mess in the morning, and do the same routine again at night.

After a few nights of this, the ghosts will leave.

[Natasha]

Vampires like to "count", too. Some researchers suggest that seeds, the source of life, have a little extra energy in them and that attracts the monsters and they collect them to soak up the energy rather than count them.

Like I said; I wonder what those Lazlo guys did with grandpa.

[Eilonwy Solstice]

That’s a new one for me, Natasha. Unfortunately, since Celeste never came across anyone that did that to her, I can’t verify that one way or another. But it’s worth a shot I suppose, so long as a backup plan is in the works just in case . . .

[Natasha]

I never seen it work myself. I don't know anybody first hand who tried it. I don't believe myself, but many, many people do.

[Willie Long]

"... I’m calling an investigation team from the Lazlo Society in. They’re really good; they have gadgets and stuff.”

“That’s all?” he gasped.

“Pretty much. They’re good gadgets.”

I gotta tell the office that one.