by Kyle Perkins
Writing Prompt – Week 7: After receiving a new laptop as a gift from a person who chose to remain anonymous, you find a folder named ‘Video Logs’ in the ‘Recents’ folder. It contains video logs of yourself, but you don’t remember doing them… and the last one is pretty disturbing.
WINNER!!! By Angela Lovelace
It was not strange for me to get anonymous “gifts.” I was not the kind of person people wanted on their payroll. I was a house flipper, houses could be sold for a profit when I was done.
I scared the ghosts away. Maybe I didn’t scare them, more like I annoyed them into using up all their energy so the Veil could take them.
Thumps didn’t bother me. Banshee wails or the throaty “get out!”? I’d just blast Skrillex and usually the ghost wore out before the dup step did. Levitating beds were fun, “light as a feather, stiff as a board.” Getting pulled out of bed and down the hall isn’t always the best, but all work has its drawbacks.
You know what is hilarious? Replace all the china with Solo cups and paper plates. Watching a pissed off ghost try to hurl them is priceless. So is watching them try to do weird crap with bean bag chairs.
Blood dripping down the walls creative time. I was getting pretty good at painting Bob Ross style.
The whole unnatural movement in the joints thing creeps me out a little, but it seems that watching works to my advantage at the clubs. Hot guys eat up my dance moves.
I assumed my payment for my last job was the laptop that had arrived for me this morning. It was the exact model I had been drooling over.
It was all ready to be used. No set up. It was password locked, but the unsigned card said, “You know the password.” I went through my list of usual passwords and it opened with one of them.
The folder labeled “Video Logs” caught my eye. I watched the first video. I was me, in my underwear and tank top. I walked the bedroom, bashed into walls. I’d back up like some malfunctioning robot and bash into the wall again. And again. Geez, I’d written off the random bruises to the fact that I didn’t eat enough vegetables.
The second video was where I sat at the table and ate a half gallon of ice cream. Every fifteen minutes I would look toward the camera and grin like a ghoul, melting cookies and cream dripping down my chin.
I clicked play for the third. The resident ghost came in through the wall. It was male, and had gimlet eyes. It grinned as it hovered over my old laptop. It must have started the camera rolling. It drifted over to me and proceeded to put me on like a snowmobile suit. It dressed me in a revealing shift dress. It took my body to the mirror, and took an inordinately long time in arranging my boobs into my push-up bra.
I then filmed myself going to the store, buying the new laptop, paying extra to have it internet ready, and then loading the videos before going to the post office and sending it to myself.
Sick freak of a ghost! This was war!