As I entered my condo a shadowy man accosted me and handed me a business card on which was printed my private key to enter the internet if ghosts.
As I examined it and realized what it was, I looked up to question the man but he was gone.
George, the concierge was waiting, holding the door open for me.
“Have you seen that man before, George?”
He looked blank. “Are you speaking about a specific gentleman, Mr. Temple?”
“Yes—the man who stopped me on the sidewalk.”
George simply stared.
“I’m referring to the blind man who stopped me,” I insisted.
“I’m very sorry, Mr. Temple, but I didn’t see anyone, and I watched you all the way as you came down the block.”
I was taken aback, and somewhat embarrassed.
“Well, that’s okay, George. Thank you.” I handed him a ten-dollar bill and hurried past.
Inside my condo, I headed straight to the study and opened my laptop.
I typed in the IP address and was routed to another server requesting I download a special app. I did so, and am directed to a link for a chat room named Umbra.
It asked for a password. I had no idea. I turned the card over and found a Latin phrase penciled on the back: Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate. On a whim, I typed it in and a portal opened.
Good evening, Mr. Temple.
My blood froze.
Please, don’t be upset—you have no reason to fear. I wish to communicate a message to you.
“Who are you?” I typed.
I’m a friend who’s been attempting to contact you for sometime regarding my daughter.
“I’m not aware of any such communication.”
Yes, unfortunately, that is the problem. When I failed to make contact, I had to resort to a method more familiar to you. I’m more at ease with the ether though, than the Ethernet.
“I don’t understand. Who are you and who is your daughter?”
Oh, you don’t know me, but you do know my daughter… you know her very well—you dream about her every night.
My breathing stopped. I stared at the monitor as if expecting it to speak. It began to flicker and fade in and out and finally dissolved to waves of pink static.
Then the lights went out.
I jumped to my feet so fast, my chair spilled backwards onto the carpet and I had to grab onto the desk for support.
As my eyes became accustomed to the dark, I could make out the dim outline of a man standing near the moonlit window.
“You are an intense young man, Blake—just the type Cyra would choose.”
I sputtered. “I-I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Don’t worry—I mean you no harm. I thought we should meet, but I must admit the way you’re going about courting my daughter is certainly novel. I mean, talking to her in dreams and avoiding her in your waking life—you’re making the poor girl miserable.”
“How do you know I dream about Cyra?”
“Well, I’m dead Blake—I’m a ghost, and I do know some things. I still keep a watch over my daughter though—nothing too pressing—I try not to dig in too far into her affairs—or non-affairs, as the case may be.”
I sank down into my chair, which unfortunately, was not there, and ended up hitting my tailbone and literally seeing stars.
As I was grinding my teeth, waiting for the pain to subside, my chair was invisibly righted and I was levitated toward it, and gently deposited into it.
“Now, now, my boy, you *really *do need to get control of your nerves—your anxiety has caused me a deuce of a time trying to get through to you.”
Now I began shaking so much my teeth were chattering.
“Does-does Cyra know you’re here talking to me?”
“Don’t be foolish, Blake,” the spectre scoffed, “Do you think I’d want to scare the wits out of my daughter?”
I wanted to point out the obvious, but wisely, decided to keep my mouth shut.
“The truth of it is, I was getting tired of you tormenting yourself—not to mention my daughter. Why don’t you just man-up and ask her out? You’re acting like a fool”
“I’m sorry, Sir—I love your daughter. I just couldn’t bear it if she rejected me.”
“Why the hell would she do that when she talks to you every night in your dreams?”
“She does?”
“Of course she does. Good God Man, there’s no distance in the spirit—souls can touch by simply reaching out to one another.”
“But Cyra seemed remote and disinterested. She’d talk and laugh with Grant and Toby and totally ignore me.”
“You mean those two bauble heads at work? She has no interest in them. Of course she can ‘chat’ with them—they mean nothing to her.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “I suppose I thought my dreams were a one-way conversation—you know, kind of like talking to God?”
The spectre threw up his hands. “Oh, don’t tell me you don’t hear from Him either! What kind of insensitive dolt are you?”
I hung my head in shame.
I felt a strong hand rest on my shoulder. “It’s okay, Son—you wouldn’t have kept on talking to either of them if your spirit didn’t sense something your mind didn’t. There’s no volume control on your soul and you can’t wait for an audible voice. You have to step out in faith.”
“You mean, ask Cyra out?”
“I wish you would, so I could have some peace.”
“I will do that, Sir—first thing tomorrow.”
The figure nodded in the gloom. “By the way, Blake, my name is Garth, and I enjoyed making your acquaintance. I must ask though not to discuss this little meeting with Cyr—no matter how tempted you may be over the years.”
“You mean there will be years?”
He chuckled softly, “There usually is when love is real. Good bye, Blake—and take good care of my girl.”
I sat dumbfounded in the dark pondering what just happened and how my life would be different from then on.
After several minutes, the lights came on.
My laptop sprang to life.
I poured a drink, shut off the power, and sat in the dark, talking in my head to my future wife.