SHADOWS OF KAYLA

HIDDEN POWERS; STALKER JAMES

Kayla.

A sigh of relief escaped my mouth on seeing Tom sitting silently in his bed. His eyes were sunken, with dark circles holding the lids beneath. Tom was leaner than he was two days ago, and the sight of him made me ache for how everyone in my family was suffering. Tom gave a forced and tired smile to the nurse who sat next to him, whispering words that I couldn't hear.

I turned to leave, as it was uncomfortable to watch Tom in such a state. All I was grateful for was that he wasn't harmed by those men. My guesses were proving more solid by the day.

Dad was involved with Van for sure. But the problem was, he didn't seem to be aware that Van had gotten whiff of where he was. And I knew I had to do something, anything to try and inform him of what is happening, so that he can move with mum and Tom elsewhere. Other than that, I was useless. I couldn't fight for them or punish those trying to harm my family. The most I could do was alert them.

The more that boy crossed my mind, the more scared I was. I wondered if I will also going to be putting him in danger by involving him with my family.

Kayla you have to do something. Think!

I headed to dad's room, for no reason in particular. All I did was head there, if by luck, something could be done through me.

Dad's room looked more like a study. There were stacks of books and papers around. Like he had been doing some kind of research work for months. It was the first time in a while I stepped into dad's room, and it only looked worse than the last time I had seen it.

I glanced around, maybe I would find something. Nothing was being processed in my brain the more I looked. Turning to the table, dad's laptop was laying hot on it, on. It meant one thing, that dad was either in the house at that time of the day, or had left and forgot to turn off his laptop.

Or did he already know and was hiding?

I let out a sigh of frustration, stomping my feet on the floor exasperatedly.

What do I do now? I asked myself, feeling fear creep into my insides.

The laptop screen gazed innocently at me, with the blank white page of the software drawing me in its emptiness. Standing in front of his desk, I imagined my fingers typing quickly away on the black keys, filling the blank page with all that I had bottled up in that chest of mine.

An imagination, all it was. One of the million things a ghost couldn't do was leave a written message, which was the one thing that kept coming to mind as a way.

I hinged closer to the desk, with eagerness, with hope for a miracle. I lifted my fingers for the keys, knowing well in the back of my head that what I was trying to do was impossible. I has been disappointed before; not once, not twice.

The closer my index finger headed for the letter “D” the more anxious I was becoming. The tip of my finger grazed the surface of the key a little, before I withdrew my finger. I hated it so much when I couldn't come in contact with tangible things like a living person would. It always made me so mad that I had quit trying.

But that morning, I was trying again, this time, for my family.

I pushed out my hand the second time, and reached for the key again in a dramatic slow motion.

This time, I felt ticklish on the tip of my finger—a sensation that made me feel a skip in my chest. I pulled away my hand, rubbing my thumb against my index finger like it was brand new.

“What was that?” I whispered surprisedly to my fingers like they had ears, before returning my gape to the keyboard in a hundred blinks.

Did I just feel something? Was it nothing?

I tried again, in the same slow manner and felt the same. It was the feeling you get when you're being tickled beneath your feet with a feather, only that the feeling I had was a lot less lighter.

It was the first time I had ever felt like that in my one month of being a ghost. A strange experience that made me wonder whether it called for a smile on my face or another hope-dashing moment.

It was much more than I expected to happen. Truth was I found it hard to believe, but I almost sank into the ground when the cold drizzle of joy washed over my skin on seeing the letter ‘D’ coming to life on the laptop screen.

***

Festus.

I jumped out of the driver's seat of the truck, dusted my hands and slammed the door shut in a bang that echoed the same chorus with Josh shutting the bonnet.

“It's time a professional dealt with this baby of yours,” Josh gave tiredly, wiping some sweat off his face with the arm of his shirt.

“You said you could fix it,” I said.

“Well, sorry I'm not a mechanic,” he blurted in return before heading for the front porch. I followed closely behind him. My phone made a “ding” sound, notifying me I had a message. I stopped by the landing of the steps and took out my phone.

“We need to talk ASAP,” read the message, and seeing James' name as the sender was more reason to ignore it. I tapped on the block icon. Another message came in from an unknown sender, whom I figured was James trying to reach me again.

“Hello. Please call me, it's urgent.”

Archiving the message, I stuffed my phone back in my pocket.