Hunt the Haunted

When I finally pulled onto the curb by the house mystery guy directed me to, we were finally having some sort of civilised conversation. His name was Josh, he’d grown up in Weybridge and he was in a band. I’d never heard of his band, but apparently they were pretty big.

‘So, what am I supposed to say? Just walk up and say, oh, by the way, how did your son die?’ I asked him, suddenly nervous. I’d never done anything like this before. Josh was just about to respond, when a hearse pulled up next to us, and people piled out of the house, into various different cars. Last out of the house were four guys, who I imagined were the rest of his band, a girl who I guessed was his girlfriend and an older couple. His parents.
I placed my hand on his arm. If it was one thing I’d learnt from this job, it was that it was bloody difficult to watch your own funeral. I was about to suggest that we lie low, and come back a few days later, when he turned.

‘Can we follow them?’ He asked. His blue eyes shining with tears that he couldn’t shed. That was one of the most upsetting things about working with ghosts. The tears could well, and threaten to spill, but they never really would.

‘Josh, I don’t think that’s the best idea.’

‘Please? I just... I need to see this. And maybe we’ll find out what happened.’ I couldn’t say no to him, he looked so broken. So I didn’t. I just started the car and silently followed the procession to a small church not too far away. By the time I’d clambered out of the car, Josh was already well on his way to the doors. He slipped in silently. Not that it would’ve mattered if he’d made a lot of noise, because I was the only one that could hear him. We sat in the back of the church, and just watched as the people milled in, some crying, others on the verge.

It was a nice ceremony. Well, for a funeral. Halfway through it, there was one heartbreaking sob from the front somewhere, and Josh was gone. I didn’t bother looking for him, I’d only cause trouble if I did, so I sat, I listened to the speeches from his band mates, and I let a few tears roll down my cheeks.

You would’ve thought, what with me doing this on a regular basis that I would’ve become adjusted to funerals. But, truth is, they still affected me as much as ever. I guess it’s because funerals would always remind me of that one day nearly four years ago, when I sat in a church, much like this one, and saw a tiny girl sobbing in the corner, asking why. Asking why her daddy had done that. And I hadn’t been able to comfort her. But that’s another story.

The service ended, and I found Josh stood by a pretty young thing, just staring at her. I worked out that it must’ve been her who had sobbed in the middle of the ceremony. I also surmised that this was his girlfriend. The Hanna that he’d told me so much about. She was as pretty as he’d said she was. She had that sort of beauty most envy. Where they can cry, and have puffy red eyes, smudged make-up and tears running down their face, yet they were still breathtakingly beautiful. I could see why he was so smitten with her. I nudged him with my shoulder, just as Hanna looked up.

‘I’m so sorry for your loss, Hanna. Josh was an amazing guy. It’s such a shame he’s gone.’ She looked at me, confused for a minute. Obviously wondering how I knew Josh, but before she could ask, I gave her a quick hug and walked away, subtly grabbing Josh’s hand and dragging him with me.

We walked in silence for a while, before he collapsed, crashing to the ground, loud sobs echoing around the walls of the alley we just happened to be walking down. The tears never fell, but ghosts could cry. I fell next to him, dragging him into my arms. I held him, whispering calming words, my fingers rubbing soothing circles on his back. After a while, he pulled away, apologising.

‘You’ve got nothing to apologise for Josh. I know this is hard-‘ I started.

‘You know? The hell do you know, Amelia? Do you really know what it feels like to die? To watch the ones you really love mourn you, to watch them break. While you stand by, totally helpless. Do you know what that feels like? No. You don’t. Yeah, you stand by, and you watch us suffer, but you just consider us nuisances, don’t you? You don’t care what happens to us. We’re just inconveniences. I can see it written in everything you do. How fed up you are. Well, it isn’t a picnic on our side either. I’m dead. I’m never going to be able to perform again. Or kiss my girlfriend. Or hug my mum. None of it. But you don’t care do you?’

I sat there in shock. I wasn’t quite sure how this argument had turned on me so quickly. By the time I’d formulated a response, he was gone. I didn’t understand why he’d turned on me. Yeah, I didn’t know what it felt like to go through all of that, but he sure as hell didn’t know what it was like to stand by and watch it happen nearly every week. But, whatever. I’d known going to the funeral had been a bad idea, and if he didn’t want my help, I wasn’t going to force it on him.