Vivienne's parents found the perfect house. A stunning Nineteenth Century Victorian at Rue Renaud, in Baton Rouge, Louisiana.
One of those houses with personality and vibe; good enough to charm even a reluctant teen into moving to what she dubbed th...
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"There's not a lot to do in Baton Rouge when you are dead. Can't complain. It's not really the hottest spot for the living, either. If I were kicking it, there's a chance I might have been asleep at this time. History class and all."
In a couple of hours, Viv had mastered the one skill Victor was so proud of, the condensation points. She had managed to scribble a decent "V" in gothic style font, courtesy of the calligraphy class she'd taken the previous summer. The drops sparkled, suspended by spectral energy, challenging the heat that poured in through the window.
"Can you afford to be less shallow? I'm a constant presence, you know. I've seen you hit those books. You are a grade A nerd." Victor smiled, proud of a level of bullying Vivienne found amusing.
"Look at you! Mastering 1950s slang! So ahead of your time. Come on, Faraday, you can do better to keep me entertained. So far, you have proven to be a decent teacher with the parlor tricks. I didn't expect for the conversation to revert to you being a voyeur."
"I'm not a..." And just like that, Vivienne found out that ghosts can blush, fiercely. To which Victor decided it was better to change the subject.
"Stop saying you're dead. It's not helping. Technically, you're not. That should put you at ease."
"I'm okay, Faraday."
"No, you're not."
Victor knew that Viv's cynicism masked panic and insecurity. After years of fantasizing about being free from everything and everyone, she now found herself alone, keeping watch over her body, delicate and vulnerable.
Unable to move away from her physical aspect more than the few meters her astral connection allowed, she had opted to avoid being in the presence of her body as much as she could.
Walking towards the corridor, Vivienne stretched the silver chain until a burst of energy shook her body, as well as her soul, warning her of taking it a step further.
"Don't push it," Victor warned, "or you might find yourself here, on the other side, for real. Hmm, I think, this is a safe enough distance. Come on."
Victor sat on the floor, near the door, and Viv did the same, leaning against his shoulder.
"Tell me a ghost story, Faraday. How did you get here?"
"I was born in this room, in September 1925. I wish I had something more exciting to tell you, but the most amazing and terrifying thing of my entire existence were the thirty seconds it took to realize I was dead. I grew up on these streets, which were much quieter and duller than they are now. A middle child, my mother said that I was born to run, and run I did, just to end up here."
Viv hit him on the knee, to which he answered with a soft "Ouch!" One of the few things she found helped her to forget the situation at hand was the pleasant discovery that, being in a spiritual state, guaranteed numerous ways she could annoy Faraday.
