Chapter 3: Operation: Slap-a-Ghost

The light was blinding. It wasn't just bright; it was aggressively cheerful. It was the kind of golden, sparkly light you'd see in a commercial for a magical breakfast cereal. I squeezed my eyes shut, half-expecting to hear a loud bang or, as Joshua had so delicately put it, see an explosion of spectral guts. All I heard was a high-pitched "ding!" sound, like a cash register hitting a jackpot.

When the light finally faded, I cautiously opened my eyes. Joshua was already peering at the spot where the ghost had been, his flashlight beam cutting through the lingering glitter motes in the air.

The ghost of Old Lady Hemlock was gone.

In her place stood… a woman. And not just any woman. She was stunning. She had long, silver hair that cascaded down her back in elegant waves, bright, intelligent eyes, and was wearing a surprisingly chic, modern pantsuit that seemed to be woven from moonlight. She looked like the CEO of a major tech company who also happened to be a part-time supermodel. The only thing marring the perfect image was the golden talisman, which was still stuck neatly to the center of her forehead like a bizarre fashion statement.

Joshua and I just stood there, our jaws on the floor.

The woman blinked a few times, looking down at her hands. They were solid. She patted her own arms, her chest, her legs. A look of pure astonishment spread across her face.

"Oh, my," she said, her voice no longer a wail, but a smooth, confident alto. "This is... unexpected. The material of this suit feels incredible. Is this a silk blend?"

Joshua was the first to snap out of it. "It worked," he whispered, his voice filled with a reverence I'd only ever heard him use when talking about limited-edition ramen flavors. "It actually worked."

He took a hesitant step forward. "Uh... Mrs. Hemlock?"

The woman looked at him, and a charming smile graced her lips. "Please, call me Petunia," she said. "It feels... right. I haven't felt this corporeal in decades. And my joints don't ache at all!" She did a little squat, testing her new knees. "Marvelous."

I finally found my voice. "But... you're... hot?" The word just slipped out. It was not my most eloquent moment.

Petunia chuckled. "Well, thank you, dear. I suppose I am. It seems your little paper treatment did more than just cure my melancholia. It appears to have… retroactively applied a lifetime of good fortune to my spiritual form. It’s like my entire existence got a makeover."

She looked around the bridge, her gaze sharp and analytical. "You know, this bridge has terrible structural integrity. The town should really invest in reinforcing the support beams. It's a lawsuit waiting to happen."

Joshua was practically vibrating with excitement. He grabbed my shoulders and started shaking me. "Amy! Do you realize what this means? This is bigger than discovering a new element! We've turned a sad ghost into a successful-looking businesswoman! The applications are endless!"

I was still trying to wrap my head around it. My luck talisman didn't just make the ghost lucky; it completely rewrote her spiritual data. It took her "misfortune" stat, cranked it up to "max fortune," and her appearance, her voice, her entire vibe had changed to match. She was no longer defined by her greatest regret (a lost flower), but by the overwhelming good fortune I had poured into the talisman.

"Wait, so... you're not sad about your lost petunia anymore?" I asked.

Petunia—the ex-ghost—paused and thought for a moment. "The flower? Oh, right. That was a tragedy at the time, but in hindsight, it taught me a valuable lesson about the transient nature of worldly possessions. Now, if you'll excuse me," she said, pulling a smartphone out of thin air—I swear, it just materialized in her hand—"I see the stock market is about to open in Tokyo. I have a feeling I know which tech startups are about to boom."

She gave us a final, dazzling smile. "Thank you for the upgrade, children. It's been a pleasure." And with that, she strode confidently off the bridge and disappeared into the woods, presumably to go make a fortune in spectral stock trading.

Joshua and I were left in stunned silence, the only evidence of the encounter being the faint smell of ozone and success.

"Okay," I said, breaking the silence. "So she didn't explode."

Joshua’s grin was manic. "This is it, Amy! This is our calling! We can help them! All of them! Think of all the miserable, sad-sack ghosts out there, just waiting for a chance to become hot and successful!"

He grabbed my arm, his eyes gleaming with the light of a thousand terrible ideas. "The grumpy ghoul in the school library who died of a paper cut! The headless horseman who can't find a decent helmet! We can give them all makeovers!"

A part of me, the logical, sane part, was screaming in terror. This was a perversion of my family's art. We were playing with forces we didn't understand.

But another, much stupider part of me was thinking about the look on Petunia's face. The shock, the joy, the sheer confidence. We had, accidentally, done a good thing. A really, really weird good thing.

"Joshua," I said, a sense of impending doom washing over me. "What are you planning?"

He pulled out his spooky map again. "I'm not planning anything," he said, his smile stretching from ear to ear. "I'm starting a business. A ghost rehabilitation service." He looked at me, his eyes wide and pleading. "And I'm going to need a lot more talismans."