Chapter 153 - To Know A Ghost (Part 2/3)

What lies beyond death?

It is a question that has plagued all of mankind, ever since the dawn of sentience, which countless have attempted to answer.

Casper didn't really care about the answer, though.

As he followed his dps through the dark and ancient forest, he wasn't at all—like many of his peers within the paranormal investigation business were—seeking out answers to this age-old question. Rather, he didn't care so much about what awaited him on the other side; only whether it was possible to be copulated with.

Where did this strange fascination arise from? It was one thing to disavow all women, but to turn immediately to ghosts for comfort…

It began, as most fetishes seem to, with his early childhood cartoon viewing. A certain cartoon movie starring a talking dog and his stoner friend who go out solving paranormal mysteries together...arriving at an all-girls school of old horror movie monsters, including—

A ghost.

Casper...had very few friends, growing up.

No matter how he tried, it seemed, he could not keep anyone's interest for long. They would inevitably turn from him, even though he did everything as was expected of him, in society, in a bid to try and fit in; to feel "accepted."

Casper Coldrake had closely abided by the rules, all his life, with nothing to show for his efforts. He'd gotten good grades, done enough extracurricular activities, and always showed the proper manners to his seniors and peers; yet, it was as if the boys and girls in school were able to see right through the facade, with the way they continued to tease and ridicule him relentlessly...branding him an outcast. And how even the government had failed to secure him a job on graduation—instead tossing him aside, like unsalvageable trash—forcing him to eke out a strained, povertous existence with little opportunity for upward mobility.

Was it a hopeless endeavor from the start?

Was pretending to be normal the wrong decision, to begin with?

Would it have turned out better if he was simply honest from the start? Or, was he just completely doomed, no matter what he tried? Even if he was sincere, at one point? Even if he started out innocent, and pure, only wanting to do right by his loved ones...by society…

Just to have his balls mercilessly, literally stomped on in the PE shed.

Was he cursed to die like this, from the start? One of the many who must inevitably struggle and perish, as a matter of course, in order to maintain a system that can't possibly account for every one of its members?

Regardless, his mind was clear on what hr must do right now:

That, in order to achieve his single last remaining goal of seducing a ghost girl, he would first have to shed this useless life of his…

By also becoming a ghost, himself.

…

Today...was a very special day, after all.

Casper had left a note behind for the landlord, and a text explaining everything to his parents.

Other than that, Casper had no one he could think of that might miss him as, in a sense, he truly was like a ghost in this world: merely floating by, unnoticed and unfelt, only fleetingly captured in occasional photographs and recordings; a wretched entity without material form, caught between life and death, in a never-changing static realm of existence.

He hadn't brought a tent with him; however, he did have some beef jerky...as well as a clean, well-sharpened katana he'd originally bought for self-defense. How ironic.

Tonight, no matter what it took…

His plan was to leave this world behind and transcend unto the next, with Sunny Dance Temple to serve as his tomb: centuries-old and fittingly left to fall into decay, rather than being lovingly preserved by the fearful locals; it was mostly collapsed and overgrown with trees and ivies when he came upon it, looking like an old forgotten ruin.

Inside, it was pitch black, with a musty scent of mildew in the air.

"H-hello!" Casper called into the void, desperation permeating into his voice: "Are there any virgin girl ghosts here, looking for a good time?"

He guided his flashlight around to view the rotted old furniture that not even the most desperate looter would take, and an offertory box that hadn't received any offerings in decades. At the center, there stood a remarkably preserved statue of a woman in a long robe—presumably Amaterasu—covering her eyes with an unfolded fan. Swirls of dust glided through the still air, like haunting wisps in and of themselves.

Casper had ventured through many such locales; reduced to little more than a thrill junky, hopping from each supposedly tormented locale to the next, hoping each one will be the big break he's been waiting for. Only to always come away disappointed.

What meaning was there...in a life where he couldn't fuck a ghost?

It's all he ever desired in life…

It's the sole purpose of him being here, in this dingy dark place, all alone, his eyelids heavy with sadness over a lifetime of isolation and prejudice: a man on his very last leg, seeking some last-minute salvation.

"Please,' he begged into his phone as it recorded, holding it to his mouth like a microphone. "Make a sound, move furniture, give me a blowjob—something!"

Still, there was nothing.

He felt a—ghostly—chill in the air, but that was all.

Nobody was sucking him off, either.

So then Casper sighed, pacing anxiously across the soggy wooden floorboards.

"I'm twenty-six years old...the best years of my life are already behind me, and I've spent the last five of them spinning signs and cleaning up dog turds."

Life...was meaningless, without ghost sex.

So, Casper began to strip away his clothing, tossing everything unto the floor.

"Look at me!" he yelled, heart pounding.

Silence.

"Isn't this something that you want?!"

More silence.

When at last he was down to his Ultraman briefs, his bare chest shining with perspiration, clutching the katana in his with its blade pointed at his lower abdomen, Casper paused when he heard the door creak open. 

Turning to look, his breathing caught in his throat:

"I-Is there...someone at the door?"

Could it be—

A sexy ghostly shrine maiden, come to reap his virginity?

Pale rays of moonlight shined in through the open doorway, casting the shadow of a person pointed toward him; of someone or something, hoarsely cackling, as it proceeded with crooked, labored steps until it was completely enveloped among the swarming shadows.

A voice rumbled to him, full of wickedness:

'You're not the first to come to this place, looking for trouble…'

"Granny…?!" came his anxious reply—having immediately recognized the voice to be that of the old woman he'd encountered earlier by the side of the road, sitting in a rocking chair underneath a pear tree.

"You're no ordinary ghost hunter, are you, child?"

"No…" he said, hesitating after, but ultimately deciding there was no sense in holding back the truth now: "I have a dream...to engage in sexual relations with a submissive, sexy female ghost."

"Is that why you're standing there in your underwear, holding a sword?"

Casper held up the sword, staring at it.

"This thing...honestly, I was going to use it to commit seppuku tonight."

"Suicide…? Why's that?"

"Because I can't realize my dream, otherwise. Not unless I pour all of my blood and heart and soul into it, and give the ultimate sacrifice."

"Aw, though you seemed so happy, back when we spoke..."

"It was obviously an act. I'm pathetic."

The old woman emerged from the shadows beside Casper, suddenly, causing him to jump and cower in fright.

"You're not pathetic; just lonesome."

Casper calmed, giving a sigh. "Nah...granny, I really am pretty damn pathetic. Instead of focusing on building a career, or doing something productive with my life, I wasted it all in pursuit of an impossible dream."

He shook his head, burying his face in his hand. 

"I want to blame others, but actually—"

Casper's words were broken off with a gasp when the old woman abruptly touched him on the shoulder.

"A young man should never give up," she said to him, her words swelling with passion. "He should fight bravely, to the bitter end, to achieve whatever change he desires."

Casper wouldn't say, but he was actually deeply touched by her words.

Even just the gentle touch of another…

Filled him with misgivings.

And besides, it would've been weird to commit seppuku in front of a sweet old lady.

Outwardly, though, Casper scoffed—putting forward a face of false bravado. "Yeah, well"—he shrugged—"I went through all this, but still don't have a ghost GF."

The old woman cackled, sounding like a witch; sending shivers up the lonesome boy's spine far worse than did the frosty chill of the night air, as he watched her back away to become partially obscured in a part of the room beyond his protective halo of light.

"You know, it's been quite dull since I've grown old in this body—no one even believes in ghosts these days, and those that do will usually recite the sacred prayers."

Casper scratched his head. "Granny, are you off your meds? Just give me a minute to put my clothes back on, and we'll—"

He froze, then—upon seeing Granny had brought her hands to the middle of her chest, clinging to her blouse; appearing dangerously close to ripping it off, with a mischievous glint in her eye to boot.

Casper shielded his eyes. "Ah! What the Hell!?" He should've known there was something weird about this!

Nothing was ever truly wholesome!

"This'll take me just one second, dear"—

Casper didn't want to look—he couldn't possibly—nevertheless, it couldn't be helped that there were gaps between his fingers. Through which, he was pleased to observe something…

Purely incredible.

Rather than removing her blouse, it was as though the little old lady had unzipped her entire body—what had, as it turned out, only existed as little more than an outer garment for a being that was dwelling within:

"Sorry if this is disturbing," a voice of a young woman said, with a bashful giggle, as she then emerged into full view as her prior "costume" fell limp to the floor.

Casper gawked, incredulous. "You're a...a—"

"Ghost?" she said, smiling cutely, brushing a swathe of silky dark hair behind her ear. "You're into ghosts, aren't you? Or are you more interested in older women?"

Casper nodded, struck dumb in awe.

Her moonlit pale skin exuded a faint glow, as a light source in itself: a slender and fair-faced beauty, of slight breasts and hip proportions, possessed of a warming, otherworldly aura of subtle grace and demurity about her; yet biting her lower lip and angling herself in a hinting way: the kind of ghost woman who would make you pancakes for breakfast and drink your syrup under the table while you eat.

She pouted, as Casper couldn't stop from staring dumbly at her. "Well, if you think I'm pretty, shouldn't you be complimenting me right now?!"