I own nothing!

I made a note to myself, mentally. I would look up banshee the second I had internet access.

Chapter 20: When Stress Strikes

Not much happened the following day, because I didn't have the courage to ask Mom to take me to a place with internet access. She spent the day inside our rooms, except for meals. She cried a lot, and Jazz cried some too. It made me feel incredibly odd to be the only Fenton not crying for Grandmother. I did wind up tearing up a little, though. Not, despite what others might have thought, because I missed Grandmother. No, not at all. It was really because, me being able to feel their emotions, I was somehow picking up their emotions, and their sadness made me teary. I was rather embarrassed, but what was I supposed to do?

In an effort to escape the atmosphere, I went to the library. The libraries in this city were impressive, and I enjoyed being in them. This one had huge columns, and arches made of stone. It had huge amounts of books, and lots of computers I could use. I even brought ten dollars for my purpose. I started by looking up "Banshee" on the internet, and managed to get a small idea of what one was. It was defined as, to shorten things, an Irish mythological creature that wailed when people died. I wound up reading many stories about them, and found myself intrigued. Mom and Dad had only ever been interested in ghosts, but what if other creatures existed?

Could I be sure the woman meant no harm? Miss. O'Brian had told me she was harmless, and I decided to believe her. I had always been rather skeptical of ghosts existing, but had decided, due to my parents influence, that all ghosts, if they existed, must be evil. This woman, before the accident, was someone I might have considered insane. Now, however, given the fact that I was dead, it was easy to believe her. I got a book on banshees, and stayed at the library, reading, reading, and reading more.

I finally got home around bedtime, thankful for having gotten more information, and having emailed Miss. O'Brian. Sinking into bed was nice. I had spent such a long amount of time occupied by my reading that I didn't even think much about my death, for the first time since it occurred.

Everybody was stressing big-time over the funeral. I caught up on schoolwork, and prepared to turn it in when I got back. The funeral would take place, not today, or tomorrow, but the day afterwards, on Tuesday. I had to get a suit, and the funeral arrangements had already been made. Apparently, towards the end of her life, Grandmother had been incredibly depressed, and went and arranged her funeral by herself.

It took some strain off of Mom and her sister, but the funeral was coming up so fast that we had very little time to prepare for it. Just enough time to grab our funeral clothes, and prepare ourselves. Jazz was studying me as if I were one of her cases that I knew she kept inside a notebook. In fact, I was pretty sure I had my own notebook, and it was a little creepy. She knew I was acting funny, and she didn't know why. I remembered something the banshee had done, something odd. It was a vague memory, but it was enough to be confused about. She'd glanced at me, and I could have sworn she was as confused as I was.

Of course, I figured it might have something to do with the whole me-being-dead thing. Weren't ghosts supposed to move to the Zone after they died/were born? I was tetchy with people because I could barely wait for us to get back home. If we got back soon, I could exchange places with Danny, the real one. But it wasn't until today that I thought about something. Something very important.

What would happen to me when I was released?

I tried not to think about it, but from the second the thought occurred, I realized I knew nothing about what happened to ghosts. Could they die? Would I cease existence? Would I linger, waiting until something struck that made me go insane, and travel to the human world, if I ever left it? What was death like? The thoughts crowded all others out, and I found myself staring into space, contemplating.

To be or not to be?

Who knew Hamlet could sum this up in such a succinct question? I was amazed I could even recall that fact, and remembered it vaguely from English class. I almost never recalled quotes. I managed to use that side thread of thought to distract myself from questions I didn't know the answer to, at least until supper the next day.

"Mom, what happens when people die?" I finally asked, grateful for a moment when she wasn't crying, and instead just being a mom, not a ghost scientist.

She regarded me with a confused look, a look that said she had no idea why I was asking her a question like that, before understanding hit. "Sweetie, nobody knows. Some people say you go to a good place, heaven, I believe they call it, or hell, a really bad place. Some people think there's nothing but oblivion." I shivered. "But don't worry; it shouldn't bother you. I know that you're probably sad, and wondering about where Mama is, but don't think about it too much."

I realized that that was what she thought I was worried about, but had to respond with something. "What about ghosts? I mean, they've got to go somewhere, right?"

She didn't hesitate for a moment. "I hope they pass on, but they probably continue existing. After all, emotions can't pass on, even if they used to be part of something useful, unlike the slime they wind up as."

I was curious about her response. "What about if Grandmother were a ghost?"

Mom hesitated for a second, before informing me, "Spirits don't exist. That's wholly outside of the realm of scientific possibility. Ectoplasm can't retain a full image of post-human consciousness. Ghosts, on the other hand, can exist."

I was still curious, but chose not to ask anything else. It was better that way. If I kept up that line of questioning, I might make her suspicious, which could be dangerous, not only for me, but for the son I was trying to restore. I stopped talking about that, and switched to lighter topics, such as Dad's phone call. Besides, I still didn't want to contemplate a future of being dead.

Mom had told him what happened, and he had told her everything that happened so far while she was away, including the fact that the fudge had ran out, and he had almost perfected the spectral entity locator, which he was thinking about calling a "Fenton Finder". I was amused that all of our equipment was nicknamed "Fenton Fill-in-the-Blank", and it had become a joke amongst my friends and I, Danny's friends and himself. I was getting too attached. I would have to remember in future to not think of them as my friends. If they figured out what I'd done to Danny…

Bedtime came early, and I wasn't sleepy. Now that I'd recovered from jetlag, I realized that I would get to experience the same delight in about three or four days. I stayed on the roof, and practiced a bit. I didn't want anyone to notice a phasing accident, and I had been working on control. I even jumped off the roof to fly, and enjoyed the stars. I had to make myself return, even though I kept reminding myself I had no right to enjoy the stars, not with how I'd murdered Danny.

Hi! Please leave a review! So, next chapter, I may try something a bit new. A Jazz POV chapter. Writing from Danny's perspective was starting to get a little boring. If you want, you can request events, too. Thanks!

-MiaulinK