The Touch of the Transparent Hands

Chapter 1: The Beginning

It was just about another average day for me, Carlotta Liggett, the protagonist of the story that I'm writing in my diary. I don't really know if I should include this but I live in a boring suburb in Massachusetts with my annoying dog and my even more terrible younger sister. Right now in the "story" I'm recalling, one could say the setting was after school, maybe 4 PM, on a warm-ish day where sunlight barely peeked out through the clouds. I was walking to work, which was somewhat close to my house. 

Note: a fact of life for me is that I see all these bothersome ghosts, everywhere I go, while most other humans, similar to me, can't see them. They're even worse than the ghosts people see in movies. 

But anyway, the first ghost I approach on my walk to work whistled and told me, "Carlotta, looking good today!"

He had a low haircut, was wearing branded, slim-fit trousers, and was also wearing a branded white t-shirt. I wanted to finally tell him to back off, also since he has complimented me in more "specific" and creepy ways. Instead, I ignored him and continued walking to my destination. 

On the way, another ghost came to me and asked, "Could you relay a message to my father? He's in Ireland, by the way."

The female ghost had long, messy black hair that barely covered her face and blew around in the wind. Her eyes had desperation. 

Looking around for people that could be near me, I reluctantly responded, "Fine, tell me the message, and I'll see what I can do. But please, promise to leave me alone for the rest of the day and tell others to do the same."

"Ah, yes. Thank you, Carlotta! I want to tell him that I'm dead, so he stops worrying about where I am. Before my death, I was being held hostage by an extortionist," the ghost explained.

"Wow, that's heavy. I'll ask another ghost for help when my shift's over," I said. 

When I arrived at my job, I was filled with dread.

"Another few hours of kissing customers' asses..." I muttered behind the door.

I worked a part-time job at a famous coffeehouse in my state, being a slave to the whims of customers. I still remember an incredibly rude customer who usually would talk to me as if I was beneath her. I also can recall the customer constantly asking for more sugar; I still can imitate the exact way she said it. But finally, after hours of work-torture, I felt free, temporarily, of course.

I still had to help one of my ghost friends, who couldn't stop bothering me for some reason.

"Hey, Leila, Could you let me borrow your power for a little while?" I asked of another ghost I could spot while walking to my house.

"What do you need?" Leila monotonously responded, looking back at me with her honey-brown eyes.

"I need your soul transferral ability so that I can help out another ghost," I answered.

"With what?" Leila inquired.

Walking closer to Leila, I explained, "The ghost wants to send a message to her father that she's dead because she was kidnapped for extortion."

"Oof. That might be tough since her body might not be in the same place. I can only lend you my power for a few hours since that's my body's limit," Leila mentioned.

Around me, I could hear people quietly saying my name, talking about how crazy I seemed. Because of this, I decided to ask Leila if we could move away from the people.

"Back to what we were talking about before, that's fine, I can do research on the ghost and her kidnapper," I said.

"Remember to be extremely quick, though. If you don't care too much about the logistics, here's my power, I guess," Leila granted her power to me, with her short brown bob's highlights being exposed by the sunlight.

Her power glowed in the already bright weather, almost like a diamond among sapphires. It looked like a ball of light, being put on my hands.

"Thank you," I said.

"You're welcome," she responded.