"It'd make sense, I'm not sure the entertainment value alone is enough of a sell for a regular publisher to take it while not believing in ghosts."

Y

The pen pauses, then knocks itself twice on the paper.  (Though one side of it stays a finger's width away from the page.)

eah.

Clothes.  Clothes are the most common examples of dead objects, by far.

"...do you want to clarify my mental image at all here or do you want to not do that."

The clothes people die in also exist as part of their ghost.  The physical clothes are obviously still there despite this.

Sometimes this also happens with murder weapons.  Or I guess objects that killed someone on accident or whatever.

"Do you have a... dead... axe...?"

✓

"Can it interact with not-dead stuff?"

The same amount that my dad can.  So, sometimes.  Rarely.

"It's - attached to him, not to you or to your mom?"

It's usually in his face.  He can take it out but it ends up back in there after a while so he usually leaves it in.  It's not like it's preventing him from getting through doorways or anything.  We can go through walls.

Oh no that's so awkward.

I think if I had done the same thing to my mom we would maybe just have two ghost axes.  I'm not sure that's how that works but I think so.

"Was she... not... also... axe murdered... I bet it does work that way, you can imagine somebody dying in an heirloom article of clothing that their grandma died in too so if you get all your clothes no exceptions then - yeah."

I got her head off pretty cleanly at the neck.  It wasn't stuck in.

"Gotcha. ...how does that affect, uh, her ghostliness."

Her head is not attached.

"Does it still, like, work, for head things, though?"

Yes.

"Do you mostly... avoid each other or..."

Not always.

It turns out they didn't actually mean to send me down the stairs.  They She, my mom specifically, just wasn't careful enough about where I was when she was hitting me.  But they acted like she did, afterward, I guess because it's really embarrassing to do that by accident and she did mean to rough me up a little.  And my dad is actually pretty okay on his own but he went along with it because he wanted to present a united front.  But they did, you know, bring me to the hospital, instead of leaving me there or finishing the job or anything.

I don't really remember the later parts of the incident itself because of the concussion, but this is what they've told me.  They got better in some ways once they realized they weren't going to end up in heaven.  Or hell, either.  My dad especially.

"I guess that's... about as good as could be expected."

The pen sets itself down.

A few seconds later, a drawer on the other side of the room opens, and a leather jacket extracts itself.  It slings itself on a frame a little taller than Cam's, at the shoulder, and glides back to the desk.

Happy Halloween.

"Pretty good ghost trick."

Special offer, one night only, I think.

"Well, maybe, if you let me read the book eventually, I can figure out how to kill your leather jacket for you."