Week 5B: Ghost
Sailor Raspberry
547 words

The arcade was silent. Eerily so. And though the moon provided a dim, milky glow as it slanted in from the window, the room remained shadowed and uncanny.

Mamoru came back out of the kitchen with a pile of plastic cups and a bottle of soda. On the floor, to the left of the game machines, sat Usagi, pale in the darkness and wearing what looked like a smile as she chatted amiably with her four friends.

He settled himself back down and passed the bottle to Makoto. Usagi peered over at him. "Where did Motoki go?"

Mamoru shrugged easily. "Said he had to use the bathroom. He'll be back."

Usagi sipped from the cup that Ami handed her and stretched out her legs. "So, would someone please explain to me what exactly we're doing at the arcade in the middle of the night?"

Rei picked a piece of lint from her skirt. "Motoki's always bragging that this place is haunted. And we've decided to prove him wrong."

"It'll be fun," Minako linked her fingers together. "But can you imagine if it really was haunted?"

Mamoru rolled his eyes. "This place isn't even old enough to be haunted a ghost. Cheap toilet paper, yes. But a ghost?"

Makoto moved to reply, but then, from somewhere near the back of the arcade, something toppled over with a bang. Everybody froze, hearts skipped a beat.

"What was that?" Usagi squeaked, knuckles white as she gripped her cup. "Was it the... The ghost?"

"Be serious, Odango. It was probably just-."

She screamed, throwing her cup down and scrambling over towards him. Soda sloshed over the tiles and congregated into a sticky puddle. "Something just pulled my hair." Mamoru leaned back as she squeezed her way between him and Makoto. "The ghost just touched me."

"It did not."

She turned terrified eyes toward him. "It did. I felt it."

He sighed. "It's obviously your overactive imagination. There's no such things as-."

A hand grabbed Usagi's arm.

She screamed.

Mamoru grabbed her waist and pulled her away. By the time he had her securely tucked against his chest, she was blubbering nonsense and grabbling for the fabric of his shirt to hold on to.

The lights flicked on, a camera flashed, and they jumped apart.

"Motoki!" Usagi wailed, swiping her damp cheeks. "It was you?"

He smiled sheepishly and shrugged.

"You were the one who knocked something over?"

He nodded.

"You were the one who pulled my hair?"

He nodded.

"You were the one who grabbed me arm?"

He nodded again and waved the camera around. "It wasn't my idea. But I decided to play along."

She glowered, and stomped a foot. "What were you guys trying to prove? That you could scare me half to death?" There was a tug on her pant leg, and she glared harder. "Really. You guys can stop playing now."

Everyone looked at her, confused. "Stop playing what?"

Another tug on her pants. "Stop pretending to be a ghost. It's over now."

"Usagi," Ami said quietly, "we aren't doing anything."

She looked over at Mamoru. "Knock it off."

He held up his hands. "I'm not doing anything either."

Someone tugged her sleeve.

Usagi spun around. Nobody was there.

They couldn't get out of there fast enough.