"There are no such things as ghosts."(Kevin Hughes) "Cynic. Skeptic. Non Believer, call me what you will. Ghosts do not exist. Never have. Never will.”

The crowd of Para-Normal devotees booed me with an energy that you just had to admire. I often wondered if they knew the irony of being “booed” at a Ghost Convention. My smile was often misread by them to be a smirk. It was just that I found being booed, amusing…well, under the circumstances. And the fact that my last name is “Casper” …just adds to the delight.

I couldn’t blame them though. The University had a policy that both sides of any argument had to present at any Convention. As if there were only two sides to any argument in the first place. So if they pulled a conference on the “Para Normal” well the Scientific Community was obligated to send its own representative to counter their claims. I was chosen. This wasn’t my first conference on the Para Normal, and I knew before I even said a word, I didn’t have a Ghost of a chance of getting my point across.

I was (and still am) a noted Physicist. I proved that all of the claims of Ghosts, Ghouls, or any creature of ethereal compounds was pure hooey. Ectoplasmic slime, energy spikes from “fluonic vapor” or just the soul of a deceased person- trapped on a “Plane of Existence” - along side us, none of them were real. Ghosts, my friend, are formed by a willing mind…and hope; not by any form of matter.

And so it was, when I went back to the Reception held that night, to find I was actually welcomed by the Host. She smiled at me, took my hand, and led me to a corner to talk with me. I was surprised at her words:

“Dr. Casper, I was so delighted to see you accept my invitation. I mean, I wasn’t sure you would come to our little soirée.”

I smiled at her.

“How could I resist? I mean a chance to spend a night in the most Haunted place in America? A house that is famous, or infamous, for the number and quality of Ghost Sightings? Of course I would come.”

She laughed. It was a soft knowing laugh. I wasn’t sure what it meant.

She reached out and touched my leg. Her touch was so light, so gentle…so…airy, that it barely registered as a touch. Yet, I could clearly see her hand resting on my knee. That was okay with me. She was charming, pretty, intelligent, and in no way threatening. If she felt safe enough to touch my knee in a casual conversation, I was safe enough to let her.

We chatted for a while. I enjoyed her wit, loved her animated movements and the conversation flitted easily from one topic to another. I found myself …enchanted. When I asked if she wanted a beer…she laughed that knowing laugh again.

“No, I really can’t drink. But feel free to get yourself one. The Bar is free to all guests.”

I got up to get a beer (never noticing that her hand had remained where my knee used to be) and being the Gentleman I know myself to be, asked her again before I headed to the Bar”

“Are you sure? I mean if you can’t drink alcohol…I shouldn’t really be pressing you to have one. But I could get you a water, or fruit drink.”

I cursed myself silently in my head. If she was in recovery…I was a bone head.

She laughed again. What a mysterious laugh she had. Her laugh was as enchanting as she was.

“No. I really can’t drink anything.”

This time, I laughed.

“You must get terribly thirsty.” And I laughed and turned towards the Bar. I didn’t see the look on her face, nor did I hear her speak, but I heard her laugh.

“No…not ever.”

I came back with my beer, sat across from her. She drew me out of my shell. Physicists are not known for being Social Butterflies…which I always ascertained to be because of the amount of Math we have to know- ruling out most conversations. We don’t do small talk well. With her though, I found myself able to express myself quite well.

Her hand resting on my knee seemed to be a conduit to my self confidence. The evening paced itself nicely…it grew dark. The lights were dimmed, and only the crackling of the fireplace served up any kind of background noise. It was only then that I noticed all the guests had left. It was just her and I. The fireplace slows dimmed to just glowing embers, giving the room a soft warm touch.

I had twice gone to the bar for another pint, she had refused any drinks. I wasn’t tipsy, or anywhere near that. We had been talking for hours. But four beers do things to a man’s bladder. I excused myself and went to the bathroom. When I came back, the room was dark. Empty. Not even an ember glowed in the fireplace.

If it wasn’t for the glow of the “Exit” sign over a side door, I wouldn’t have had anything to focus on. It was enough light to illuminate the doorway. And that is when I froze. She was in the doorway. My mind took that last sentence in. And reeled.

She …was…in…the…door…way. Not in front of the door, Not beside the door. IN THE DOOR.”

She drifted in …then out…then somewhere in the middle. I stood stock still. I couldn’t move a muscle. My eyes, already wide from the darkness, were now ever wider with shock. I was struggling to find something to say. I heard her laugh.

“No such things as Ghosts? Eh, Dr. Casper.”

She reached out for my hand. I never hesitated…I put my hand in hers. She pulled me through the doorway.

The Next morning I heard her laugh again. I asked her why. She pointed to the Morning Newspaper. I gasped at the Headline:

“Dr. Stephen Casper died of a stroke last night at the Reception for the Para Normal Activity Conference. Several Attendees claim to have seen his ghost wander off with a very beautiful woman. Other’s said they heard a sweet laugh, but never saw anything. One woman said she found, four beers on a table…all opened but not a drop missing.”

When the Manager was asked if he thought this was a publicity stunt to increase the Hotel’s reputation as the most haunted place in America. He laughed and with a grim smile said:

“Dr. Casper is dead. Dead and gone. There are no such things as Ghosts.”

He turned as he thought he heard a woman’s laugh.

There was no one there.

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