Our channel went a little viral. Especially the last video, which received 200,000 views naturally. Our previous videos, prior to this bump, had only received 10,000 views. Apparently, someone had posted the video to various subreddits, Facebook and Twitter. We were receiving a lot of comments, questions, and inquiries. Karen had given me access to the email set up for ExperimentingWithGhosts.com, which we bought a second domain for, ewg.com, that redirected to the original site. She had bought a really good package that had a business email with the domain in it. And there were tons of inquiries. Our YouTube channel was set up under that email. And there were a lot of people trying to get us to do all kinds of things. She gave me access solely so that I could help her sift through them and determine what was spam and what was not. A full 40% of the emails were people wanting to expand our reach in some vague, undefined way. Another quarter were people offering us sponsorships for things that no one wants. We received at least 20 emails from a company asking us to sell Siege: Dark Lore, a theoretically popular mobile game that seemed to sponsor everyone on YouTube. But that was not really all that much. At the time it seemed like it was because we had never received so much traffic to either the website or our videos.

But thanks to all of that attention, a news site picked it up and ran with it, generating even more views. They titled their article Has YouTube Proven the Existence of Ghosts? I did not really like the title of the article, but it was effective. News sites do not really track traffic the same way that YouTube does. I can see how many people liked the article and they had a share button that had a counter on it. Naturally, once one article ran it, all of the rest of them ran it as well, all with equally sensationalist headlines. Things like Does YouTube Have Its First Ghost Content Creator? Admittedly, Lona really liked that one. Most of the articles used a direct link to the last video we uploaded, which was the Ouija Board episode. And I am using the word episode as a double entendre. Lona freaked the fuck out when she was not able to move it and Sara was. She was pretty shaken by that, by the end of the night.

My parents saw the article, God help me, and called immediately. They had not watched the video, just read my name. Apparently, one of my mom's friends had sent it to her and said that I was famous. Which was not exactly untrue. The articles had been circulating for a couple of days now and we were just shy of a million views on the Ouija Board video. The rest of our videos had capped out at about 50,000 apiece. Which was kind of understandable. Anyway. My parents called me.

“H-hey, John. How are you doing?” My mother asked tentatively. She was using that kind of voice that she only used when she thought I was going to lose it.

“Hi, mom. I take it you saw the news.” I said, darkly. I had been expecting this since the first article. I had lost track of how many of them had come and gone since.

“Yeah, I did. So did your dad. He's here, too.” My mother said something with her hand muffling the speaker.

“I don't want to talk to him. I can't deal with him when he's cracked like that.” I heard my father's voice. My heart sank a little further. My father's not a bad guy. Not really. But he does have the emotional understanding of a bulldozer. And the elegance of one too.

“So,” I interrupted. “You saw the article. Didn't watch the video, obviously.”

“V-video?” My mother asked, coming back to the phone. “No, I didn't watch the video. You know I don't like the YouTub or whatever it is. Rots your brain, don't cha know? Except for those cute cat videos. Those are good.”

“Sure,” I responded through gritted teeth. “But that means you're missing important context. Things like the actual proof that is in the video.”

“What proof!?” My father cut in, all but shouting. “Damn it, boy! Ghosts don't exist!”

“How the fuck would you know that if you don't watch the fuc-” I stopped, taking a deep breath. When I began speaking again, my voice was rough and strained. “When I was younger, I didn't have the ability to prove what I was saying. Now I do. Now I have proof.”

“Proof? A YouTube video is proof, boy?” My father demanded, incredulously. “I've seen all kinds of bullshit on that site. Is Bigfoot real too?”

“I don't know. Is there a fucking YouTube channel that actually tests the claims properly, like I have been doing? Is there a fucking YouTube channel that has gone out into the forest, filmed Bigfoot, and come back with actual findings, like I fucking have?”

“John! That's no way to talk to your father, young man!” My mother screeched.

“Ma, I'm thirty. I don't really give a fuck. You both are calling me nuts again and you haven't actually looked at the fucking evidence of my claims. And I'm not supposed to be angry with you?” I let out another deep breath, trying to reign in my temper. “You know what. Fuck off. I'm done.”

I hung up the phone and slammed it down on the counter. Lona was standing there, staring at me. She looked sad. And scared. I had never really shouted around her before. I usually had better control over my temper than that. But . . . Parents always dig and dig and dig until they can get at you. They called again and I ignored the violent buzzing on the counter and made myself a coffee. Mom called several more times and I ignored them all. She left a couple of messages, but I did not bother checking them. My father texted me. I ignored it. It was difficult. I hate ignoring notifications. Lona was a comfort. She refused to let me stew in my anger, as I was content to do. We watched some movies. We played a board game together. She won and did a happy dance. I turned over the pieces, thinking about why she would be able to move the pieces of the board but not the planchette of an Ouija Board. That was the strangest thing. Why would a couple of pieces of plastic react so differently to her? It just doesn't make sense. A little while later, I received another call. I snatched up the phone, angrily and was about to let loose on the caller when I saw it was Karen.

“Hey, Kare. What's up?” I asked. I made sure to use her name so that Lona would be less worried. She was staring when I picked it up but teleported to my side and leaned into me so that she could listen, too. We had tried speakerphone before, to avoid this situation. It did not work. She would still curl up into me, no matter what.

“JOHN! Loans!” Karen shouted into the phone. “They want to do an interview! They want to interview Lona and you!”

“Who wants to do an interview? How would they even interview Lona? What? Why me?” I asked in a rush as all of the questions tried to escape at once.

“The Roe Bro Show!”

“Oh, God. Roman Milton? I hate that guy.” I said.

“Yeah, he's kind of a doofus, but he's chill, ya know?” Karen said, simply.

“He's only chill because he's constantly high.”

“Anyway, yeah, him. He wants you on the show! I already talked to his producer and said that you'd do it.”

“What!?” I demanded. “Why!? Why me?”

“Because you have the most experience with this. And like, you're the one dating the ghost.” I felt the blood leave my face.

“Y-you didn't tell them that, did you? Please, God, Karen, tell me you didn't tell them that!”

“Why shouldn't she tell them that!?” Lona demanded, some heat crawling into her voice.

“Because that's a great way to get me locked up again,” I muttered. “Do you want to visit me when I'm in the loony bin? I'm sure I could give you some delightful crayon drawings that you'd have nowhere to hang because I'd lose the apartment.”

Lona thought about it for a moment and pouted. “I . . . I just don't want you to be ashamed of me.”

“Lone, come on. I'm not ashamed of you. It's just . . . I don't want to go back.”

“Hey, lover-boy! Shut up and listen!” Karen cut in. “I didn't tell them that you're doing the Devil's Tango with a ghost. Just that you lived with one.”

“Well . . . I might not be put in an asylum for that. Unless my parents realize it.”

“Yeah, whatever. It's in three weeks. They said they'd pay for you to fly out there. They even offered a second ticket for Lona.”

“Wait a minute, why me again? This entire thing was your idea!”

“Like I said, you know more. And you have an advantage. You're a guy. No one will call you a hysterical and on the rag.”

“No one would say that hearing ghosts is a menstrual thing,” I insisted.

“Bro . . . Dudes blame fuckin' everything on periods. I went to the doctor three months ago for a sprained ankle and the doc tried to pass it off as menstrual pain.”

“Yeah, guys are weird about periods. They think they're evil or something.” Lona added, wisely. I was a bit out of my depth here, given that I had never had a period.

“Fine . . . I'll get the time off.”

“Good. You'll be going to L.A.”

“I wonder why they're not just doing a video conference. That would definitely be easier.”

“I asked, they want to have the ghost in the studio to lift things and do some demos or whatever.”

Lona and I flew out to L.A. a couple of weeks later. They had put us up in a hotel for about a week. I spoke to the producer myself in the meantime and he asked me some general questions. He sounded bored and disinterested the entire time and went through the usual list. How long I had been able to see ghosts, how I experienced them, general knowledge of what I knew about them. I could hear him typing his notes on the other end. At the end, he thanked me and clicked off immediately, before I could say anything.

“I don't think he likes me,” I said.

“Nah, he's probably just like super busy, Jizzle,” Lona responded, taking several pictures out on the hotel balcony. “I mean, he does have, like, a whole show to run.”

“This is all so much. Flying us out here to do an interview.”

“Maybe, but also, like, it's just a little expense. A hotel for a few nights, two roundtrip tickets. It's not all that much, really, for companies like this.” Lona responded absently.

“How do you know so much about this?”

“Oh, Jizzy. I was an actress. I had been looking into this stuff for ages. I wanted to know everything about acting and how it worked. So I watched interviews and read books and articles. Anything and everything I could find.”

“Fair enough, I guess.”

“Didn't you have any dreams you obsessed over?”

“Not really. Just staying out of the asylum. That's about it,” I said, quietly. I had listened to the messages my mother left. The first couple were angry, calling me a child and crazy. There were a few begging me to seek out help. Then there was silence. My father's message was calling me an ungrateful shit. All and all, not the most compelling arguments I had heard to talk to someone.

A day or so later, we met with Roman at the studio. It was weirdly cramped. The space was efficient. Every inch was utilized. Roman himself was a tall, tan man with wide shoulders and an athletic physique. Bald with dark eyes. He had that perpetual stubble he always seemed to sport. I wonder how he kept it like that.

“Hey, man,” he introduced himself, holding out his hand. “Thanks for coming out. I know it was kinda short notice. We had a cancellation and you were the hot topic. I knew I had to get the Ghost Whisperer on the show.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I said, looking around. I took his hand. His grip was firm. Much more so than mine.

“Is the ghost with us?” Roman asked, looking around. Lona was bobbing around and looking at the cameras and microphones, amazed. All of this stuff was a lot more expensive than anything we had.

“Yeah, she's here,” I said. “Keep your hand out. I want to show you something. Lona, come shake his hand.”

“Her name is Lo-on! Oh, God! That's cold!” Roman said, as Lona gripped his hand in both of hers and shook it. “That's so cool, man! Fucking crazy.”

After a few minutes, we settled down. They had set another chair out for Lona to sit next to me, and she did, gripping my hand. There was another man in the room who was operating a computer in the back end. He held his hand up and brought down his fingers, counting down slowly, and then pointed to Roman, who instantly started speaking. “Brothers and sisters, what is up? We got something real cool for you here on the Roe Bro Show! We're here with John Jamison and a ghost named Lona! I know that sounds crazy, but I shook her hand! At least I hope it was her hand! Whatever it was, I couldn't see it and it was cold as a witch's tit! So, John. You can speak to ghosts, is that right?”

“Uh,” I began, then leaned into the mic. “Y-yeah. I can speak to ghosts, I can also see them and hear them.”

“Wow, man, that's crazy. How long have you been able to do that?” Roman asked, his eyes focused on me. I had watched a few of his videos and I never really noticed with the way that the cameras were positioned that he stared directly at his guests when asking them questions. I guess that made sense, but it was still a little off-putting with how intense he seemed.

“Uh, well, the first ghost I remember seeing is my Grandma Marion. She died when I was about four or five or so and then she just hung around the house for a while,” I felt really self-conscious and awkward. I looked at the camera and Lona gripped my face and pulled it back to Roman, whispering in my ear.

“Don't look at the camera, John. It'll look weird. Just look at Roman.”

“Whoa! Jessie! Check that shit out!” Roman shouted. “Jessie, zoom in on that shit. Do that again, whatever you did!”

“What?” Both Lona and I asked at the same time.

“I could see her grab you or something. Do it again!” Roman insisted. Lona gripped my face again, pressing my flesh down. Then she pinched my cheek and pulled me to the side a little bit, playfully.

“Holy shit, dude, that's fucking wild,” Roman said in a softer tone, staring a little slack-jawed. “What did she just do?”

“Oh, uh,” I started to look back at the camera but forced myself to focus on Roman's forehead. I could not stare him in the eyes, but this should work. “I'm . . . I'm a little nervous, so I was going to look at the camera. Lona stopped me and told me that's bad practice.”

“Hahaha, bro, you talk to ghosts but you're nervous on camera? That's so weird, dude. An' like, don't you have a YouTube channel? That's how all this got started, right?” Roman asked. “Like, bro, you do little experiments or whatever to establish that ghosts exist.”

“I mean, that's a little different. For one, I'm not usually the focus. She is, you know?” I said, thinking about it as I spoke. “And, well, even if I'm in frame, it's never about me. It's about proving whatever we are doing. Like with the temperature experiments we did. I had to be on camera for a long time, but it was just to prove that my body temperature would drop less than hers.”

“Oh, right right. That temperature thing was crazy. So, is she always cold like that?”

“Y-yeah, mostly. But if you get heat lamps she can heat up to a bit. She has to sit under it for a while to make sure the temperature lasts.”

“D'ya know why ghosts are cold?”

“I don't really know that they are that cold.”

“She was cold when she shook my hand, bro. Felt like ice.”

“Well, I mean, yeah, she's cold to us, but usually she's within a few degrees either direction of room temp, right? So, she's not the 98 degrees or whatever of the . . . uh . . .”

“Just say living, John. It's okay,” Lona said, softly. I looked at her. “I've been dead a long time, I'm used to it, okay?”

“What did she say?” Roman asked.

“Oh, uh, I was about to try and find another word for living, 'cause some ghosts feel uncomfortable or get upset when you mention their state or the fact that they're no longer living and she was just telling me it was okay to use that word.”

“Oh, I bet, man. Like, imagine being dead. Like you're just not able to be seen by anyone or touched or whatever, but, like, hey, she can totally touch things, right? Like, everything but that Ouija board or whatever, right?” Roman rambled a bit. Lona nodded in agreement. She had a bit of a sad look on her face. I frowned.

“She can touch things. Which is a bit odd, but yeah. It can be pretty hard for ghosts. It . . . I think it gets lonely for them,” I took Lona's hand in mine and squeezed.

“So, like, she lives with you, right? Like, how does that work? I can't imagine she pays rent. Did you move into the apartment and she was already there? What's the story, bro?”

“Uh, well, no. Uh,” Lona was watching me carefully as I spoke. “I . . . I went on vacation, like half a year ago now and I met Lona. She was just goofing off a bit and I talked to her. We just kind of hit it off, ya know? Just started hanging out. When my vacation ended, she decided to follow me.”

“So, ghosts can just go anywhere they please? Like, if, uh, Lona? Lona's her name, right?” I nodded. “So, if Lona wanted to, she could just walk into a bank and, like, just get everyone's secrets, right?”

“I guess so, but most ghosts aren't like that.”

“Oh, then, what are most ghosts like?”

“Hmm,” I made a noise with my mouth and thought everything through for a moment. Roman took a drink while he was waiting. “Well, mostly they're just people. So, I guess, maybe, some ghosts might look through secrets. But a lot of them just exist. They go through and watch things. Ghosts who are active are notorious people watchers. They are interested in all of the changes of the world, mostly. I've met a few that just practice their dancing or use the time to learn new languages.”

“Oh, shit, man. If I had forever, I could learn, like, so much stuff, ya know. That would be so cool. Like, imagine that. But most ghosts can't, like, touch stuff, right?”

“Yeah, no,” I said. “Ghosts usually just pass through everything.”

“But Lona can touch stuff. She can like grab my hand or whatever. Do you know what that is?”

“I, uh, I really don't. I have a couple of hypotheses, but I'm ultimately not sure.”

“Shit, bro, like, what's your theories or whatever?”

“So, recently we met another ghost, Sara, who has the ability to be heard by the living and even seen, sometimes. But it takes a lot of energy out of her and she almost Fades when it happens.”

“Fades?” Roman asked.

“Oh, uh . . . Sometimes, ghosts just disappear and stop existing. It seems that after a while they just cannot retain their . . . essence any longer.”

“Oh, so even ghosts can die. . . Er, die again, then. That's wild, bro.”

“Yeah, it kind of depends. I've met ghosts that are a couple hundred years old. Lona here has been, uhh, dead for over twenty years. Grandma Marion faded after a few months.”

“D'ya, like, know where they go?”

“No idea. They don't come back, so I couldn't ask and I don't know how to reach them if they still exist.”

“Whoa, bro, have you ever tried DMT?” Roman asked. This is why I did not really like him. Almost every time I heard him speak, he brought up DMT, a psychedelic that, as near as I could tell, he constantly did.

“Uh, no, not really,” I managed.

“Like, it opens your mind up to so much, bro, like you already can talk to ghosts, but like what if it broke out to another dimension and you could like see into the Faded dimension or whatever, you know, bro? Like, that shit'd be tight as hell. Like, DMT opens you up to so many new possibilities.”

“R-right. I don't know. Uh, I kind of have enough things to try and figure out right now.”

“Oh, bro, yeah, no. I totally understand that. I just think that it might, like, open you up to so much more than you currently know about,” Roman said in the most serious tone I had ever seen. I watched him for a moment.

“Y-yeah. I'll have to see what I can do about that,” I said noncommittally.

“So, like, Lona's a girl, right?”

“Well, a woman, yeah.”

“So, like, is she hot?” Roman asked, leaning forward a bit. I laughed. I had a feeling this might come up.

“Uh, well, yeah. She's hot. Um. But she's also just super cool. Oh! I did bring you something so that you could see her. We discovered this on the Ouija Board video we did. Apparently, the planchettes can let non-mediums see ghosts.” I reached into my pocket and held out a pair of glasses Karen and I had put together made of the full planchettes. We found out that they needed to be fully intact to see ghosts, so they looked dumb as hell, but they did allow her to see them. Roman took them and examined them for a moment.

“What's this?” He asked.

“Just try them on,” I said, nodding to him. He did so and looked around for a moment.

“Whoa! Shit, bro! I can fuckin' see her! That's wild! And she is hot,” Roman exclaimed. “Jessie, you gotta try these out!”

Jessie took the makeshift Ouija Glasses out from Roman's hands and tried them on. All of the blood drained from his face as his eyes focused on Lona for the first time. In a gruff voice, he managed to say: “Fuck! She's actually real!”

“I know, bro!”

“Like, that's crazy, right? I thought this guy was full of shit, honestly, but . . .” Jessie walked around the table and passed his hand through Lona. Lona grabbed his hand and he jumped a little.

“Fucking Ouija Boards, man. Who would've thought?” Roman asked, incredulously.

“No kidding. I had no idea before we did that video. It's fucking nuts, honestly,” I added, watching him.

“Wait, you never did Ouija Boards before.”

“Uh, no. Never needed to, really.”

“Oh, right! You can just talk to ghosts! That's crazy, bro.”

We continued to talk for a while longer, but they were just so amazed by Lona. Lona smiled widely the entire time. She really liked being seen. I patted her knee and just enjoyed the show. After a while, we wrapped up and Roman thanked me again for coming out. He told me that the show would be out in a few days. Lona sat in the chair as we wrapped up texting and Roman noticed the phone floating in the middle of the air. “Oh! She can use a phone? God, I wish we had gotten that on camera? That's fucking wild!”

“You're really like this all the time, huh?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah, bro. One hundred percent. I don't fake anything.” I smiled. It was more charming in person, I guess.

We stayed in town and did some touristy things in L.A. It was a big, but stretched-out, city. Lots of space. And God it was hot and humid the entire time. We even met up with Clara Henrykson. She invited us to the set. Lona had insisted we get her a pair of the Ouija Glasses, too. We had made four pairs, so far. One for Karen, another for Vic, another for Roman, and the last for Clara. Clara was shooting some action movie and we caught her doing a complicated wire stunt in front of a green screen. After the scene was cut, she walked over and smiled brightly. “You must be John.”

“Yeah,” I said hesitantly. I was a little nervous and uncomfortable. One, she was a famous actress who had really been seen all over the world. And she was also my girlfriend's killer. Even if it was an accident, I still was a little resentful.

“Where's Lona?” She asked, looking around, curiously.

“Oh, she's here,” I said, taking out the glasses and handing them to her.

“I mean, where's her . . . Body.”

“Oh, we left it back home. We didn't really want to explain her skeleton to the TSA.”

“Right, you fly commercial,” she said, a little condescendingly. “What's this?”

“Those are Ouija Glasses. They'll let you see her,” I said. She put them on and gasped. She reached out and touched Lona. Lona gripped her hand and pulled her into a hug. Clara was tiny, even to me. She was pulled off of her feet and spun around. Both women giggled.

“Lona, it really is you,” Clara said. “I must admit. I was not one hundred percent sure before this. But now, I'm certain.”

I handed Lona her phone so that she could type out her response.

Yeah lol. That's understandable. But it really is me in the not quite flesh!

“Lona, we have to go back and meet with everyone again. Tell them that you're still . . . around. Tell your parents.”

I don't know about that. Don't you think it would just hurt them more to know that? That I was a ghost. That I moved away with some guy.

“Everyone moves away, girl. But people were really sad about your passing and they . . . I haven't been back to town since I got out of prison. I . . . Lona, girl. Come on. We can visit our home and talk to people. Don't you want to see them?” I watched the two women carefully. I had the feeling that Clara was trying to get people to forgive her so that she could come home and not be hated. But Lona had forgiven her, it seems. And she did look like she wanted to do it. There were tears in her eyes at the thought, but she was smiling brightly.

Okay! When should we do it? I can't do it without you. We can go back and see everybody.

“Shooting's about to wrap up in a few weeks. Let's go then,” Clara said. “I'll get you more info then.”

I shifted uncomfortably. I was not sure I could get more time off of work. But maybe it would be good if they went just themselves. It would just be a home visit. And that would make Lona really happy. She would be able to see and interact with everyone. And maybe she would be better off that way. Maybe . . . Maybe she would move back to her home town when she had her old friends and family back. My heart sank at the thought. But this was not about me. It was about her happiness.

Do you think I should bring my body? That might be a little weird. But then people could see me! That would be totally awesome.

“Or you could bring more of these, girl,” Clara said, tapping her glasses. “Or both.”

John could meet my parents! Oh my god. I'm bringing a guy home to meet my parents! That's so COOOOOOL!

“Yeah, that's definitely Lona,” Clara said, grinning at the phone and looked at me. “John, dear. You look upset.”

“Oh, uh. I just don't know that I'll be able to get the time off, is all.” I lied. I had never really met a girl's parents before. It was a little scary. I was relieved that Lona wanted me there.

“Oh no, you're going,” Clara said.

“Yeah!” Lona added.

“I mean, I don't know. I don't really know that I'm all that necessary for this,” I muttered.

“Not necessary? You're my boyfriend.”

“You're her medium. We need you to talk for her. The cellphone is nice if a little weird. And you're her fucking boyfriend. You're coming. I'll talk to your job myself if I have to, but you're not weaseling your way out of this,” Clara clarified. Lona grinned and hugged her again, tightly. “See? Lona agrees. God, you're cold.”