by Riley Moreno
going to school, living a normal life..”
“Did you go to Oak Leaf High?” I asked, intent on the story.
“It’s the only high school in town; of course I went there.”
“But my friend Aimee has lived in Oak Leaf her whole life and gone to Oak Leaf High for the past couple years,” I protest. “I asked her about you, and she said she didn’t know you. If you’re really our age, she should know you. It’s not a very big high school.” I don’t think I’ve ever been more confused in my life. Danny is more than a riddle; he’s a conundrum.
“It makes sense she doesn’t know me.” Danny fidgets on the tablecloth, reaches into the picnic basket and plucks a handful of fat, juicy grapes. He studies me appraisingly for what seems an eternity, then asks, “What year were you born, Harper?”
What a bizarre question! But I tell him.
There is a long pause. Finally, Danny says, “I was born in 1955.”
I gasp, reflexively withdrawing my hand from his. “1955? What are you talking about, Danny? That’s crazy!”
He ignores me. “Like I told you, I had a normal family and a normal life. I lived with my parents—our last name was Benson—and my brother Dave in a little white frame house on Big Hill Road. It’s still there, in fact, but I have no idea who the present owners are. Anyway, we were a close family—went to church Sundays, ate dinner together every night, had a cat and a dog, everything was perfect, you know? My mom dressed like June Cleaver and baked pies for dessert. It was a stereotypical 50’s kind of household, even in the 60’s.
“My parents were pretty much untouched by what was happening in the real world—the war, the drugs, the hippies, the sexual revolution. So it was easy, once Dave and I got older, to rebel a little bit. We never did anything all that bad, but, you know, boys will be boys.” Danny smirks knowingly at me. I can’t believe I’m really hearing what’s coming out of his mouth.
He continues. “When you live in a place like Oak Leaf, you’ve got to create fun of your own. We hung out with our friends, played practical jokes on people, ran wild on Halloween, experimented a little with alcohol and cigarettes. Once Dave even got hold of some weed, and we tried that and had a decent trip—but then, you know, I decided drugs really weren’t for me. We went on dates, messed around with girls, and all the while, our parents were sitting at home, Mom with her sewing and Dad with his paper.”
He shrugs. “I’m not saying everything we did was right; just telling you like it was. Then, one stormy night in 1972, I had dropped my date off at her house and was heading toward my own. To tell you the truth, I don’t know I managed to get her back to her parents in one piece; we’d been at a party, and I was pretty sloshed. Well, you can imagine what happened next. The road was slick with rain; I swerved, crashed through a guard rail, and found myself trapped in a car that was hurtling down the side of an embankment.
“Oak River was below me, but I never got a chance to see it. Before I reached the bottom, the car crashed into some rocks at the bottom of the embankment, and the lights went out behind my eyes, and I was gone.”
I gasp, uncomprehending yet still affected by his story. “What happened next?” I managed.
Danny shrugged. “I woke up in the woods; it was light out, and my first thought was that somehow I had gotten out of the car alive, after all, and ended up knocking out in the woods till morning. But I quickly realized that I was miles from Oak River. And when I went back to my house, I found my parents and Dave grieving over me. I tried to tell them I was here, that they didn’t have to be upset, but they couldn’t see me or hear me, no matter what I did.” He shudders. “It was probably the worst moment of my…I can’t say life, can I? Of my existence.”
I shudder, too, just imagining it. But if Danny isn’t alive, if he died a long time ago, that must make him a….My hand flies to my mouth, but Danny keeps on talking.
“I went to my own funeral, Harper,” he says. “Of course, no one knew I was there. But I saw myself—I saw my dead body, dressed up in a suit and lying in a coffin. That’s when I knew for absolutely certain that I was a ghost. So I’ve pretty much been hanging around in the Oak Leaf woods since 1972,” he concludes.
“I’ve found I can make myself invisible. I have limited magical powers, like the ability to vanish and reappear in a different location, to light candles from a distance, to make things I want float over to me. Anyone who touches me will feel of the warmth of the magic and be warm themselves. I can do human things, too—I can eat food without it falling into thin air. I can spy on people, find out the good gossip in the town. I can even steal—clothes, groceries—and no one ever suspects.”
I gape at him. “This food is stolen, is that what you’re saying?”
He cracks up. “After all I’ve told you, all you can think about is whether or not I stole this food? Of course I did. But I have to steal. If I didn’t steal, I’d starve. Not sure what would happen then, but food sure does make the afterlife a lot more entertaining. And I’ve got to keep my style up to date, right?” He plucks at the material of his T-shirt. If he’s a ghost, no wonder he isn’t cold out here….
I shake my head, numb with shock, and rest it between my knees. “So…” I ask at length, “are you just going to be a ghost forever? Just keep living—or, I’m sorry, after-living, on and on and on?”
Danny glances at me. “I take it you believe me, Harper?”
I look into his eyes. He really has beautiful eyes. “What choice do I have?” I ask. “It all adds up.” To my surprise, this is the truth; I do believe him.
He breaks into an easy grin. “I knew you would, Harper. You’re the first person I’ve revealed myself too—willingly—for years. When I saw you that day on the trail, I could tell you were sensitive, perceptive, intelligent.” He touches my chin with his fingers. “I guess I will go on and on and on, like you say, but people like you make it all worthwhile.”
He moves ever so slightly closer to me, takes my chin in those warm, magic-sparking hands of his, and tilts my face upward. We kiss and kiss and kiss. Like everything else about him, the kiss is tingly and exciting, mystical and otherworldly. It’s like a thousand perfect kisses bottled into one.
I sigh with delight, and Danny strokes my hair. At last we pull apart, and I shake my head at him in wonderment. “You really clear up a lot of misconceptions about ghosts, you know that?” I say. “You’re not pale, you’re not transparent, and you’re definitely not a cold fish!”
He laughs and laughs, and I sigh again, just enjoying the sound. I like his laugh. I like everything about him. Who cares if he is a ghost? Danny Benson just made moving to Oak Leaf worthwhile.
# # #
About the author
Riley Moreno has lived in Minneapolis for the last 13 years. She loves the uptown, the Walker Art Center, going to the movies and hanging out with her friends. She mainly writes young adult paranormal romance and can be super lazy at times.
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Halloween
