Whoo. Hoo-ray for ghosties."
I didn't know what to do. I was shocked. I mean, I was legitimately confused for a second, thinking that maybe I was in a dream, a lucid one. I remembered how they say you never know when you are dreaming, but you always know that you are awake.

So I did the first thing that came to my mind; I dropped to the floor, hard, and landed on my butt. I opened my mouth to say something, but then closed it when I couldn't think of anything adequate to say. I opened it again, determined to say anything, but closed it. I must have looked like a fish who jumped out of the fishbowl.

"I like what ya've done with the place," said the creature in the mirror. It pressed its grey face up to the glass, or other side of the mirror, whatever, and clapped it hands on either side of its face, as though trying to reduce some imaginary glare.

"Aah..." I said stupidly, still on the floor, looking up at the thing.

"It's really, uh, homey," it continued casually, "and I tell ya, two months back, this place was a real mess, ya know? Like some cheery, chirpy little hellhole."

"You...you're real." I stated.

The creature dropped it gaze down to me and grinned with a mouth full of chipped, half rotted teeth.

"Ya know, you really changed up this place, and your wearing black like the gothiest of 'em, but ya can't shake that natural blonde stupidity," he said, "Ya can't fix stupid." He cackled at his own joke. The realization that he had made a reference to a joke from the present time confused me even more.

"Uh...okay," I took a deep breath and counted to ten. The thing watched me patiently, for a while, then dropped down too, crossing its legs and hanging its head on his hands, with its elbows resting on its knees.

"You awfully cute for a, ya know...still-alive-and-breathin' person, but as bright as a box o' hammers."

"I...am sorry," I spoke carefully, marveling at the sound of my own voice, "but this...has never happened to me before."

"Aw man," the thing said, rolling its eyes skyward, "I bin usin' the same line, but they don't buy it. I am D-E-A-D, and that's...that's a real bitch."

"Then...you are a...ghost?"

"I prefer 'mortally impaired', or 'living challenged'."

"Okay," I closed eyes again and collected my thoughts. "Okay so...so...why are you here?"

It shrugged at me and shook its head, not so much in the I-don't-know way, but more like he didn't want to tell me."

"So uh, then...why are you in my mirror?"

"That's how I always talk to you living people." He knocked on the glass from his side. His image distorted and shook.

"Oh," I said, noting the relief in my voice, "then it's a telephone? You can't like...come out?"

"Sure I can," he said.

I buried my face in my hands. It allowed me a few seconds of time to think.

"But only 'cause I know your name," he said finally. I looked at him through my fingers. It was true; he DID know my name. And then the realization hit me and I gasped, horrified.

"Fuck," I said, "you've been watching me!"

"Ever since ya moved in."

"That's...that's such a...oh god."

"Don't ya wanna know my name?"

"Oh...you have a name?" I tried not to think about how many times I've been naked in this room, when coming out of the shower. How often I changed clothing right in front of the mirror.

"Sure do."

"What is then?"

"Can't tell ya!" he said almost cheerfully, "but you wanna play a game to figure it out?"

"Not really." I was still reeling.

"But I know yours," he said sinisterly, dropping his already grating voice a pitch lower, "and if its one thing ya don't want, it's a ghost knowin your name."

"You're a ghost? A real, live, 100 genuine ghost?"

"With the most." He frowned. "I'm a real, dead ghost though."

"Oh God, I didn't summon you with the Ouija board did I? Is your name Pazuzu?"

He cackled hysterically, rocking back and forth.

"Not even close...'cept the 3 syllables though. See? That's a clue."

"Okay," I said numbly, "okay, I'm going to bed now."

"What?" he said with a sad look on his face, "already? But I just got here."

"Apparently, not."

"Yeah but...doncha wanna know my name?"

"No. Not if you're so insistent about it. It's probably a bad thing."

"It's the only way t'cancel out the curse on your name though."

"You're lying."

"I never lie. Judy." With that, he stuck his hand out beyond the boundaries of the mirror and touched the eye shadow I had left out on the floor with the rest of my makeup that I was too lazy to put back neatly into the tackle box I had been using as a makeup case. The moment his finger hit the plastic, the powder melted and swirled. It actually changed color right before my eyes. White stripes slide along the plastic, continuing on to the powder. He removed his hand but the striped design stayed. I jumped up and backed away.

"So?" he asked, wiggling his fingers on the hand he had used to change the eye shadow next to his face, "ya better figure it out quick before I decide t'come over there and make ya do it."

"Okay, alright," I said, feeling sick, "fine. What's your name?"

"I already told ya, can't tell. I give my name t'uh every Tom, Dick, and Harry, well then I would never have any fun." He grinned his hideous grin. "Get it?"

"Okay...game. What game?"

"Ha..." he hummed in thought, "how bout 20 Questions? Or, ya know...however many questions you need to say my name."

"Um...okay." I felt sick to my stomach. I tried to think of a good question but failed. The creature waited patiently.

"Is...is it a boy's name?"

He frowned at me, then narrowed his deep-set eyes.

"I'm not gonna take offense to that, because I've gathered that you ain't an Einstein. And also...eh...it's as boy­ish as any name would be if, ya know, given to a boy." He spoke the word "boy" in a very clear, direct way, rolling his eyes in frustration.

"Okay...so, uh...does it start with a G?"

"Uh...no."

"Okay...does it start with a...T?"

"This is gonna take a million years if ya don't start askin' some better questions, Judes."

His use of my name, even in his own little nicknamed way, gave me a little more incentive.

"Fine. Are you named after someone famous?"

"...not someone."

"Oh...something famous?"

He rolled his eyes again.

"Yes."

"Okay...was it an invention?"

"Naw."

"Was it...a discovery?"

"Uh...yes?" he frowned at me again. "These are kinda...no so relevant."

"No, I'm progressing here," I said quickly, "was it a mathematical discovery?"

"No."

"Was it a..." of course, it had to be something already existent...but not known till recent times. "Was it - "

"IS it," he corrected me, "It's pretty much still a name."

"Fine. Is it a scientific discovery?"

"Yeah...how many questions has that been? I lost count."

"Has it anything to do with gravity?"

"Uh...n-no..." he was unsure now. This was getting me nowhere.

"Fuck! Okay...okay...um..." I thought hard, but I distracted by his hands. He was keeping them limply on his knees. The tips of his fingers were a raw, red color, with a slight texture of...meat. The skin on the tips of his fingers was torn off.

A fresh wave of horror hit me like a friggin zamboni (that roller car thing they use to smooth the ice out in the skating rink) and I staggered back, tripping over my backpack and landing not-so-gracefully on a pile of school books. My mom always told me that my whole life was nothing but a messy room, and that's what would cause me trouble. I guess she was right. I felt the corner of a particularly heavy book stab my lower back.

"Whoa there," said the ghost, "that was really random...are you breathin'?"

I wasn't. The book I landed on had jabbed my back so hard, I was temporarily winded. I took a gasping breath and sat up, wincing when the injured muscle spasmed in a dull pain. I pulled the book out from under me. It was my astronomy text, and I had shifted the cover and torn the binding a little.

"Haha...good luck resellin' that," The ghost cackled, "but seriously...hit me with another question anytime."

"Hah..." I breathed stupidly, "uh...is your name something from...astronomy?"

"As a matter of fact...yeah," he laughed, "wow, that's some weird divine intervention crap."

"So your name isn't a conventional name?" I opened my book and checked the table of contents.

"Naw...I never met no one with the same name." I flipped to the glossary.

"Would I find your name in here?"

"Oh...probably."

"Okay..." I was still chilled by my realization about his hands, and was beginning to get a creepy crawly feeling about the coincidence of me landing on the one text, among the dozen or so scattered around my room, that would reveal his name.

I thought hard.

"Did you do that on purpose?"

"Wha?" he gave me a very convincing look of confusion and innocence.

"Did you make me fall?"

"Did I make you fall? Did ya see me trip ya?"

"Fine. Whatever. From the beginning then. Does your name start with an A?"

"No."

"B?"

"Yes," He said with satisfaction. "Finally."

"Okay...hold on..." I checked the glossary.

"Big bang?"

"Remember the 3 syllable rule?"

"Oh...Bok Globules?"

"Uh...what?" he shook his head as though clearing it, "what the hell are Bok Gobules?" he frowned. "Is that 3 syllables? Bok-Gob -"

"Bok-Glo-bules."

"N-no...wouldnt it be 'Bok-Glob-u-als'?"

"Does it matter? Is that your name?"

"No...no its not." He rubbed the bridge of what must have been a nose as some point but was now just a triangular hole in his face, complete with the septum dividing the two nostrils. I shivered, wondering if he felt anything with his torn fingers...and relieved when no blood stained his skin (whatever was left).

"Okay...so...B...3 syllables...fuck! is it a planet name?"

"No."

"No. But close. Oh so close..."

"Argh!"

"Ya have no idea how close you are, Judes..."

"Ah...Betelgeuse?"

The ghost jumped to his feet so eagerly that the mirror actually shook.

"Ya got it! What was that, like a million questions?"

"20," I said proudly, "if you don't count the ones about...you know...when I fell."