Enshrouded

by Jeff Baker

“Hey! Watch where you’re going!” the white figure said as they nearly collided in mid-air.

“Sorry! I’m kinda new at this!” Skye said.

“Well, just be sure you get the tree and not me, okay?”

“Okay.”

The last thing Skye had expected was that he’d become a ghost and that ghosts actually did look like a floating white sheet. He was assured that not every ghost looked like this and further that this was only a temporary condition.

Then came the second surprise; the ghosts had to dive bomb the trees on the grounds of their old high school. This, not kids, was what caused the filmy white strips that everyone thought were toilet paper.

Skye floated overhead and stared down at the two thick Elm trees that he remembered from when he’d gone here in, what? The early seventies? It was hard to remember sometimes. The green leafy tree was enshrouded with white strips. Skye smiled. People always wondered how kids got the tops of the trees.

“Wheeeeeeee!” The voice was the one he’d heard before as a white sheeted ghost swirled around another tree brushing the branches leaving white strips.

“Looks good,” Skye said, resisting the urge to go “Boooo!”

“Yeah, thanks,” the ghost said.

“Hey, I’m Skye,” he said. “Sorry about that earlier.”

“Forget it,” the other ghost said. “Just call me Trick, like in Trick-Or-Treat.”

“Hey, Trick,” Skye said.

“Look at this,” Trick said, spreading his sheet. Skye looked. Most humans couldn’t see them and they appeared to themselves as solid, white sheets draped over an invisible person but Skye could actually see part of the house across the street through Trick.

“Heyyyyy! Nice!” Skye said.

“I’m thinning out!” Trick said. “That means I’m leaving here soon!”

“How long have you been here, anyway?” Skye asked.

“Since June sixteenth, nineteen-seventy.” Trick said. “Vietnam.”

“Oh, my God!” Skye said. “I can’t remember your name, but we had a page for you in the yearbook! My editor put it together the year before I started here!”

“I can’t remember my name either,” Trick said. “They said that’s a good sign. Losing the last of Earth so I get to go elsewhere.”

“Wow!” Skye said.

“Yeah.” Trick said. “Hey, watch me dive-bomb that little bush by the door!”

“MIS-ter Cuthbert! MIS-ter Sandburg!”

The sharp female voice was familiar. A tall, thin shrouded white sheet floated down near the two other ghosts.

“Mrs. Pickering!” the other two ghosts cried out.

“So, you’re still here and still getting into trouble, I see!” Mrs. Pickering said.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Trick said.

“Well, I’ll tell you…” Mrs. Pickering paused and glanced down at the tree. “Oh, what the hey! Watch THIS, boys!”

The tall ghost swooped down, gracefully touching the top tree branches leaving an elegant film of white, like a lace tablecloth put out only on special occasions. Her laughter trilled like silvery bells.

—end—