First times

In a hazy city with too many neon lights, a group of like-situationed individuals have a chat.

Word count: 509 words

Content Warnings: Descriptions of gore

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"My first time, he screamed loud enough to wake the entire apartment."

"Damn, good for you. My first time, he couldn't stop looking at my legs! Couldn't even lift his eyes up to meet mine, I actually got a little self conscious."

"Well, my first time -- I swear it, she didn't make a noise. Just stared at me. Cute little dame, but such intense eyes."

A gaggle of ghosts hover just above head height, wispy tails flowing in the wind generated by the foot traffic passing unassumingly beneath them. They lounge, sprawled across the brutalist cement parapets. A ledge that would only be suitable for the street vermin and birds, now overtaken by those not seen.

An elderly woman with both eyes gouged out gives a toothy grin. "I got attacked, my first time! I was shocked, but kid had some spunk to her! Should've chosen better, I suppose." The neon sign that flickers behind her shimmers through her translucent form, bright pink dispersing through hazy ectoplasm. "She was holding a drink, and jabbed a straw right through here," the woman explains, pointing a finger at the hole where her eyes used to be. "Good for her!"

A balding man in a wool vest pats his younger acquaintance. The smaller form is cloudy, bubbling with an energy that sizzles through a sixth dimension. They blink with glowing eyes, hesitation and fear apparent even though their form lacked the features and solidity to even express emotion.

"You'll be fine," the balding man says, a small tilt of a smile under thick horn-rimmed glasses. The lenses don't catch the neon lights quite right, refracting wavy lines that make it seemed more appropriate on silly glasses worn at a new year's eve party. He pats his woolen vest, sending small clouds of ghostly smoke poofing outwards, perpetually cleaning his hands of dirt that will never go away.

"Yeah kiddo, it's easy! Not like we can die again," says a young woman, much too young to even be calling the newcomer kid. She swings her legs while on the ledge, leg passing through the hat of a passerby walking underneath before an unprecedented wind knocks it off, sending it flying. She laughs.

"Let's give you some advice, okay?" The woman without eyes says again. "The more you get acknowledged by the waking world, the more solid your form's going to become."

"It's not like we're stealing anything," the young woman interjects. "Living and breathing things already have enough life! It's the least they could do."

The newcomer seems to hiss, voice buzzing in time with the hum of the neon lights as they try to communicate. Unintentionally, they push to hard, and the neon lights pulse once, twice, then burst with a sharp CRACK, sparks raining down on a frightened passerby.

"There we go, that's a good start! Get on down there, go give 'em a good scare."

A cloudy ghost blinks, swaying in the wind. Then floats downwards, where an unsuspecting, superstitious, blind-in-the-dark passerby encounters a real ghost for the first time.

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Photo by Aleksandar Pasaric from Pexels: https://www.pexels.com/photo/photo-of-neon-signage-1820770/