Karl

The next day began at seven a.m., something that caused me to almost murder Karl. (Ignoring the fact that he was already dead of course, but I knew he knew I was practically nocturnal.) Now that he knew what to do to move on, it was all Karl could do to sit still.

Ten minutes after we began, I picked him up and hefted him into the next room, putting my headphones in my ears and trying to ignore his suggestions. He was twice as annoying as my previous roommate, especially now that he had a way out of his current form. He was screaming at me the second he landed but I blocked him out easily with my music turned up. (He didn’t appear to be injured in any way when I threw him, so I figured that the clock would hold up as long as he stayed there, meaning I could throw it about quite a bit if Karl got me annoyed enough.)

I worked on my story for an hour or so before managing to drift off to sleep on the desk. When I awoke again, it was four hours later and I could feel my face trying to keep the shape of the keyboard whilst also returning to its former shape. I tried to make my face return to its previous form by rubbing it.

“Hey, stupid keyboard-head!” Karl yelled at me when I shifted to I was sitting upright, “Pick me up and bring me in there that way I can read what you wrote in that hour after you chucked me into this room.”

I sighed and did as he said, for there was no reason not to.

“Now read it and tell me what you think-” I began and then choked off as he grew these translucent arms and tapped at the keys on the computer, showing him the story that I had written so far.

I gaped at him and when he chuckled, I gulped down my questions and asked him –instead- what he was laughing at.

He pointed to the screen and I noticed that there was almost a full page of nothing but random letters and symbols. This time I gaped at the screen and then I gestured to it and me.

“Did I do that when I fell asleep on the keyboard?”

Karl laughed, “Isn’t it obvious?”

I leaned over and held down the backspace button until all of the excess letters and symbols were gone. Karl was silent for the next ten minutes or so as he read what I had written.

“Aside from the fact that you have written some really weird things in at weird times due to lack of sleep,” he told me clearly finished with my story so far, “I think it’s coming along great. Just continue writing along this storyline and I will proofread it later.”

“Gee, you’re such a nice clock,” I said, sarcasm creeping into my voice. When all he did was glare at me, I ignored him and began working on my story. (I moved him before I could do so, however.)

By the time I stopped for food I had written another ten pages and my hands were cramping up. I took about an hour off for food and then returned to writing, intent on finishing before the day was up.

By eight p.m. my story was nearing its conclusion easily, as though it had just been waiting for me to switch the parent’s personalities and continue with the crash sequence. Something I hadn’t mentioned to Karl though, was the fact that I had changed the crash to fit what had happened to him, since I felt it showed the villain’s background better. It also made better sense compared to the previous one, since this one actually had someone dying in it, whereas mine was survived. It lent a sense of realism to it that I felt Karl would appreciate.

I finished the ending and sat back with a satisfied smile; I knew that this ending was perfect, even though it was strange.

I put Karl back on the desk and let him read what I had written whilst I went about working on making my second meal of the day, (it was actually more like night by then, but whatever).

I sat in the computer chair and chowed down on my dinner –as I considered it- even though I wasn’t all that hungry. I knew I needed to eat something besides what I had eaten for lunch, (a bowl of ramen which wasn’t really filling), and this was the first thing I heated up. Karl was dead silent, (pun intended), and then he turned around and stared me down.

“Tell me something.”

“Yes?”

“Why did you change the crash scene?”

“Easy. I didn’t feel like mine felt as real as yours did. Plus, I needed someone to die in it, and yours was a more deadly crash than mine.”

“Ha,” he replied humorlessly, “that’s a laugh.”

I gave him a curious look, “I would’ve thought you wouldn’t have any issue with me using that story, especially since you were trying to help me in order to pass on. So what’s the big deal?”

He sighed, “Geez. I just would’ve appreciated you using it for the main character, not the bad guy. It kind of puts a bad twist to my story, you know?”

I began laughing.

“Clearly you haven’t finished reading what I wrote.” I replied.

He gave me a curious look and then returned to reading at my urging.

I gulped down the rest of my food and went to clean up a bit. When I came back from my trip to the kitchen, he had finished.

I sat back down in my computer chair and waited for him to talk.

“I am amazed,” he said, after a minute or so had passed, “I had not thought it would’ve been possible to do that with your characters. No wonder you were having issues with your villain and his family. I really do think that you have an awesome ending to the story; an ending I would’ve never expected from you, even though you had told me to continue reading. That alone should’ve clued me in but it didn’t. I am sure that once you find a publisher they would be more than happy to publish this story. I- What’s that?”

He was staring over my right shoulder, so I turned and peered but saw nothing.

“What does it look like?” I asked him.

He switched his view to me and grinned brilliantly. That was when I realized something; he was no longer in my clock, I could now see what he looked like from before. He was a rather normal looking guy of average height with dark hair and dark eyes, but his smile was so great that I found myself smiling before I realized what I was doing.

“I see my grandma and grandpa,” he replied, “I even see my dog from when I was a kid. They look so happy. I guess it’s time to go, huh?”

I nodded, “Based off of what I’ve heard and seen that sounds about right. Go on then, go to your loved ones.” I gave him a wide grin, “I’m just glad you appeared to help me out with my story.”

He smiled again and melted away in front of my eyes.

For days afterwards, all I could think of was how he had smiled when he left. That being said, I had already found a publisher willing to publish that story and any others that I wrote. I felt blessed.

That is, of course, until I hit writer’s block on my new story and was stuck for a month or so.

After that month went by, I noticed my lamp began making strange sounds. A week after I noticed it, the lamp spoke. (It only scared me marginally due to Karl’s influence.)

“You stuck, huh?” it asked. When I nodded it continued, “I can help, I think I have a story that might solve your problem.”

My face paled and I almost fainted when I recognized where this was going.

“Uh, um so what’s your name, new ghost?” I asked as I gripped the desk in a death grip in an effort not to collapse.

“My name’s Jasmine,” she replied, “and I can help you out.”

“I know you can,” I said letting out a sigh, “I was just hoping I wouldn’t get another ghost any time soon.”

“If you really were hoping that,” she said, sounding reproachful, “then you shouldn’t have called me. I only came because you said I could. I’m sure that’s the only reason you have the past experiences with spirits.”

I gave her a confused look, “It’s only happened once.”

She managed to make her lamp form look surprised, “No way.”

“Yes way.” I explained.

“But then why is there a guy in your T.V. and another in your phone?” she asked me.

I was floored.

“You’re joshing me,” I said and saw that she was already shaking her head, “But I don’t understand. How can I call you guys here without knowing it?”

“That’s easy,” my T.V. turned on suddenly, “you needed help with your story and couldn’t get help the normal way. So your subconscious mind would call to us and bring us here in the hopes that we could help you. Unfortunately, until Karl you couldn’t hear us, and the only reason that happened was because he was strong and you were really tired.”

“Yeah, but how did this come about in the first place?” I demanded, rubbing my eyes since they were starting to hurt for some reason.

The T.V. shrugged, but the phone spoke up.

“I think I may know,” it said, “but I don’t know if you’re going to like it very much. I heard all about your crash when you were younger thanks to one of the conversations you had with your mom. I noticed that she mentioned you almost dying, but I wonder. If you died, even if for only a moment or so, that would change your prospective of the world at large and may even cause it to look at you differently. That being said, merely by having a different perspective means that you can do things that might not be normal for a human being.”

“Question,” I interjected. The phone indicated I could continue, “you say that my perspective may have changed, but why is that change only affecting me now? I mean, I was in that accident when I was five, for goodness sake, so why didn’t I always hear you?”

“The stories,” Jasmine said, “it was the stories.”

The rest of us looked at her in confusion.

“When you began writing those stories,” she explained, “you were tapping into that energy that is similar to us. When you got writer’s block, your energy would reach out for help, but up until now it’s been fairly weak. For some strange reason it was strengthened.”

“Yeah, poverty does that to you,” the T.V. joked, making all of us laugh.

We discussed a few more things, but all that could be said was that they were there to help me out. Jasmine began reading what I had written while I got to know my other two new friends. The T.V. was now called Manny and the phone was now Sue. When Jasmine finished reading what I had written we discussed what I could do to change it, with the help of Manny and Sue.

Once this was resolved, they said farewell, but I knew it was only a matter of time before another ghost or two, or even three came to help me out. (The only reason there had been three of them this time was because they had been forced to stay here until they helped me out with the current story. Manny and Sue had arrived long before.)

I began a new story with the hope that I wouldn’t need help from ghosts, but I also knew that it was likely to happen anyway.

In fact, there’s one now.