The office above the bustling café in downtown Leesburg was a small cluttered one-room space that perfectly mirrored the eclectic personalities of its occupants.
The room smelled of old books and coffee – a lingering aroma that traveled up from the eatery below. Chris Janney, the seasoned paranormal investigator in his late thirties, sat behind his cluttered desk, surveying his team members, engaged in their usual banter. Diplomas from pseudo-scientific institutions such as the ‘Rhinoceros Institute for Parapsychological Research’ and the ‘Institute of Noetic Sciences’ adorned the walls behind him, bearing witness to his years of training.
Norman Pete, or “Normie” – as he was affectionately known, had his nose buried in a thick tome about spectral phenomena. His lanky frame hunched over; he occasionally punctuated his reading with muttered exclamations. Surrounding him were various paranormal investigation tools such as infrared thermometers, Electromagnetic Field Meters, and Spirit Boxes… it seemed like he was part of the clutter himself. He wore a black t-shirt with white letters that read: “Fishing for Ghosts. Catch and Release Only,” and above his desk hung a poster stating, “Paranormal investigator: the only job where asking, ‘Is anybody here?’ is considered professional communication.” Norman’s faint, pencil-thin mustache was his latest attempt to make his boyish face look older, but it only served as another source of amusement for Kat, who taunted him relentlessly about it.
“Aw, come on, Normie,” Kat teased, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she eyed his mustache. “I thought you were growing out your facial hair to impress the spirits, not scare them away.”
“Very funny, Skittles,” Norman replied without looking up from his book, using the nickname he’d given Kat because of her colorful makeup. “Some of us are actually trying to improve our understanding of the paranormal.”
Perched on the corner of Normie’s desk, Kat’s striking appearance contrasted sharply with the mismatched decor of the room. Her petite frame barely reached over five feet tall, but her boisterous, unfiltered personality more than compensated for her size. A halo of dim light seemed to illuminate her pale skin, and her heavy makeup accentuated her dark, mischievous eyes. Shoulder-length black hair, reminiscent of pin-up girls from a bygone era, framed her face, and long straight-cut bangs covered her forehead. She wore a t-shirt that boldly declared: “PARANORMAL INVESTIGATOR BECAUSE FREAKIN’ AWESOME IS NOT AN OFFICIAL JOB TITLE.”
Leaning forward, she inspected the thick book in Norman’s hands, eager to give him a hard time. “Normie, are you sure you’re not just summoning the ghosts of boredom past with that book?” she quipped, her dark eyes dancing mischievously.
Norman’s head snapped up, his glasses slipping precariously down his nose. “Kat, this is serious research. I’m looking for rational explanations for our findings. You know, scientific rigor.”
Kat snorted, her brightly painted red lips curling into a smirk. “Scientific rigor? How do you scientifically explain that pathetic thing you call a mustache?”
Huffing, Normie pushed his glasses back up his nose and glanced towards Chris. “Chris, I know you appreciate the true essence of spectral phenomena. Maybe we should do more investigating, so we aren’t just left with these ghost walks, and tourists seeking cheap thrills.”
“Normies right, Chris,” Kat rolled her eyes dramatically. “Maybe we should hand out Ouija boards and glow sticks tonight for extra ambiance, you know, get a little real spirit activity going.”
“Let’s not undermine the integrity of our tours, guys,” Chris raised an eyebrow, torn between amusement and concern.
“Fine, I’ll leave the Ouija boards for another night.” Kat let out an exaggerated sigh, her brashness softened by a playful smile.
“Alright, you two, which way do we want to head on the tour tonight – east or west. Any feeling where there might be some activity?” Chris interjected, hoping the change of subject would quiet the bickering.
Kat leaned back, crossing her arms. “Yeah, yeah, the monthly parade of skeptics hoping to catch a glimpse of Casper. My Ouija board says we go west.”
Norman adjusted his glasses. “If you want an opportunity to educate the public about the intricacies of paranormal research, I think east of the courthouse might make for some interesting conversations.”
“Sure, Normie. You want to talk and i want to see some real ghosts,” Kat waved a hand dismissively.
“Let’s not forget, people are interested in what we do. We’ve got a reputation to uphold,” Chris chuckled, attempting to maintain order.
“Hey, east or west, I’m just hoping to add a touch of spectral elegance to the mix,” Kat winked at Chris, striking a playful pose that accentuated her beauty.
“Ghostly elegance? Is that a new chapter in your paranormal fashion guide?” Norman sighed, rolling his eyes.
“Normie, my man, you do know that reading ancient scrolls won’t summon a ghost, right?” Kat’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
“Unlike your ‘summoning ghosts with lipstick’ technique, I prefer to rely on knowledge and evidence,” Norman shot her an irritated glance, his dry sense of humor evident even in his exasperation.
Chris intervened before things could escalate further. “Can we please just focus on the tour?” he asked in an exasperated tone.
“Fine,” Kat relented, crossing her arms over her chest. “But I still think we should do something exciting during the tour, like a séance or something.”
“Absolutely not,” Chris said firmly, his gaze locked on Kat. “We’ve talked about this before. We’re not going to use cheap gimmicks to entertain our guests.”
“Alright, alright,” she sighed, rolling her eyes once more. “But if we end up with another group of yawning tourists, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Trust me, Kat,” Chris replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. “I think our work speaks for itself.”
K. D. Phillips, Author 
Leave a comment