I don't especially enjoy waiting to read all chapters of a story, so here is my first contribution in its entirety.

All disclaimers still apply, namely, don't expect any romance, DO NOT try this yourselves, and most important of all, I don't own Invader Zim or any of these characters. Jhonen Vasquez does.

Back to the story:

Chapter Three: Night

Dib studied the list he'd written, trying to recall the book's instructions in as accurate detail as he could. White table cloth, check. Candles, again in multiples of three... Dib had stopped collecting when he got to nine. So far so good. Dib checked the list against what he could recall, then double checked his materials against the written list once more. Though thankful that he'd started reading the book immediately, Dib fervently hoped he was still recalling everything correctly.

Dib once more caught himself thinking that it was all the fault of those kids and Ms. Bitters (all of whom he now hated more than ever) that he didn't have the book to refer to. This time, however, he fought back such angry thoughts, as he seemed to remember reading that bad feelings could easily attract bad ghosts. Hadn't the book also said something about music? In case it did, Dib turned on the radio and tuned it to a station playing something slow and sleepy; to his relief, the music did indeed provide a welcome distraction from his brooding.

He seemed to recall counting four items which the book listed as absolutely essential, but he had accumulated only three: table, tablecloth, candles, and... ? Suddenly he remembered; ah, incense! The only trouble now was that Dib didn't know where to get incense, whatever that was. However, one of the scents the book had suggested using was cinnamon, and the cupboard still had a whole bottle of that.

Having come this far, Dib was suddenly unsure about proceeding alone. Was it really dangerous, or simply less effective? To get around this as best he could, he hunted around the house until he found two framed mirrors which he stood on the table in front of him.

Next Dib went looking for matches or a lighter, but could only come up with one of his father's old Bunsen burner lighters. He managed to squeeze a spark from it long enough to ignite a piece of paper, which he held to the wick of each candle until the flame caught.

Dib finally took his seat carefully, and angled the mirrors until the reflections joined to form an unbroken image, then placed his palms on the mirrors' surfaces.

While doing as many of the protection rituals as he could recall, Dib realized that until now he'd completely forgotten that all electric lights had to be turned off, so he released his hold on the mirrors long enough to do so. The room, now softly lit by the gently undulating candles, looked a lot like it had at his last birthday party.

Dib took his seat once more and resolved to concentrate as much as possible. Closing his eyes and taking his first deep breath, Dib began to mentally prepare for the task ahead. He sat at the table calmly, relaxing... relaxing very hard...so hard, in fact, that he got tired of all that relaxing and shrugged his shoulders to work out the soreness.

Dib waited and waited, breathing deeply, in through his nose and out through his mouth, trying to think of nothing at all, and paying attention to all the sounds and smells around him, as the book had said to do. It seemed like a long time later that he suddenly remembered he had to chant too! Hastily he began repeating the request to the spirits that the book had suggested... well, as closely as he could remember.

You had to believe. That was important. No skeptics. I want to believe, like it said on his aliens poster. Dib did his best to send open, welcoming vibes to any ghosts who might be hovering at that very moment, deciding whether to make an appearance, I believe, yes I do believe...

"Dib believes in gho - osts... Dib believes in gho - osts..." The shrill, mocking echoes from that afternoon emerged unwanted from the depths of his mind. Vigorously, Dib shook his head to dislodge the unwelcome taunts. "Dib believes in - " NO! No distractions.

Nothing was happening, nothing at all. Maybe he shouldn't have started without the book. Had he been too hasty? Should he have waited, found out what incense actually was and used the genuine article? Should he have called one of those phone psychics to help him? Charlatans or not, they were better than nothing. If they didn't actually believe, at least they claimed they did, and that was -

Dib suddenly realized that he had stopped chanting and immediately resumed, but did this mean he had lost all that previous time and was now starting all over again? Doggedly, Dib repeated the chant over and over, over and over until the words lost all meaning for him and became mere sounds.

Even though Dib had no idea how long the process usually took, he had thought he would surely have some results after this much waiting. If he opened his eyes to check the clock, did that mean he would have to start over yet again? Was it dangerous to sit past a certain time limit, or just no more effective? If the book had indeed given specific information in this area, it was past the point where he'd been forced to stop reading.

Between Dib's arms and so close to his face, the candles, all nine of them, by now felt uncomfortably hot. Dib wished he'd thought of taking off his trench coat earlier but if he took a hand off a mirror, that would break the circle and stop the procedure... and Dib had gone through far, far too much today to start over again now!

Sweat rolled down Dib's face, dripping steadily from his nose and chin, but he didn't dare let go of the mirrors to wipe it away. In spite of the heat Dib maintained his concentration this time, and as best he could, his pose. Most of Dib's T-shirt was by now saturated, his trench coat sleeves were dark and glistening with sweat, and his arms in particular felt like they were burning, but he remained perfectly still, his breathing even and his mind centered on his goal. Presently Dib's mouth fell open and he tasted salt thick and heavy on his lips; he really was becoming unbearably hot. How long could he remain like this? Would something happen before he fainted?

Dib couldn't begin to guess how much time had passed; was it midnight? Almost morning? Had it been five hours? Or only five minutes? He didn't know... although Dib was now dimly aware of a distant, bodiless sensation similar to that which he remembered from volunteering for a hypnotist act at the fair the previous summer. Did this mean it was working? Or was he just dehydrated? He'd never done this before so how could he know?

A sudden chill gripped him and while it was most welcome against the merciless heat, Dib flicked an eye open briefly to be sure none of the candles had gone out. No, they were all still lit... and the smoke strings rising from them had thickened. Dib froze even more; did that mean it was working? That something was actually happening?

What was he to do next? Anything? Did he need to close his eyes again? Would chanting louder make it happen faster? Or would it be better if he remained silent now? Keeping his eye open a crack, Dib stared at the line of smoke to see if it would continue to thicken while his eyes were open; if it thinned out he could always shut his eyes again.

Dib barely breathed; the noises in the living room seemed to be coming from miles away even as the kitchen clock pounded deafeningly. The smoke would waver, then steady, then waver again, steady again. Dib nearly jumped... at one point the smoke unmistakably bunched in the middle before falling back to its previous dimensions! Torn between closing his eyes to assist the process or staring with all his attention, Dib soon found that the wider he opened his eyes, the vaguer the figure became, so he tried half closing them.

With his eyelashes refracting the light, the smoke loomed even more well-defined, building by the moment. Dib's eyes flared wide in astonishment for just a moment; he was awestruck at actually witnessing this while awake and not dreaming. Goose bumps rippled across his body.

Dib watched breathlessly as the smoke continued to thicken and began to billow, building outward from the centre. First Dib thought he saw feet hanging below the cloud; then he was unsure what he had just seen. The smoke was beginning to resemble a swaying shroud; long wispy trails of smoke were separating into finger - like tendrils at the ends. Dib continued to watch in dumbfounded fascination as a being within the smoke seemed to slowly condense from the feet up. The body continued to form; yes, it was female! Dib started and caught himself preparing to stand up, then forced himself to settle back down to stare intently toward where the face would appear.

Tendrils of smoke swirled and came together; broke apart and swirled again. An inarticulate exclamation escaped Dib as the smoke began collecting at the neck, then condensed into the curve of the cheek, the individual features and the unmistakable bangs, all of them exactly as he remembered. Dib knew that relinquishing his touch on the mirror would break the circle and cost him his hard-won achievement, and that he could never hug the hovering spirit; nevertheless, he barely caught himself from reaching out his arms. The tears blurring his eyes pulled the hazy apparition into crystal clear focus. Dib began crying, not for the first time that day, but finally, a smile was shining through the tears. "Mom?" He gasped. "Mom! Mom... "

The End.

Again, thanks for reading. The first draft of this written in the three days following my father's death last October.