Get a hobby, they said. Do something you find interesting, they said. You’ll meet friends, they said…

“Mel, do you have eyes on the REM pod in the psych ward?” the radio crackled.

I pressed some keys on my console and one of the small monitoring screens switched to the dimly lit psych ward with the cylindrical REM pod blinking its nominal red LED. I keyed the mic on my radio, “Tyler, it’s Melissa. Psych ward REM pod is nominal. Want me to actively monitor it?”

Silence for a moment, then Tyler’s voice on the radio, “Yeah, if you could keep an eye on it. We’re a floor below the psych ward and we’re hearing what sound like footsteps above us.”

“Copy that, Ty,” I said and moved the window of the psych ward REM pod to one side of my big, curved monitor. While I was at it, I queued up another window and started cycling through the cameras that weren’t being actively monitored. Everything looked normal except camera 6 indicated offline. I checked my map and it indicated Dale placed that camera in what used to be the hospital’s nursery aimed directly at a teddy bear that actually housed a REM pod.

I jogged the recording back to when the camera was initially turned on. I watched Dale back away from the camera and raise his radio to check in with me to make sure that camera was transmitting. I indicated it was, and he exits the frame. I jog forward with no change to the empty room, expecting it to remain that way until the camera… I don’t know, died? Lost signal? Could be anything – it’s not uncommon. But a few minutes before the camera went offline, several orbs floated into view, hovering in front of the camera completely obscuring the view of the teddy bear before zooming straight at the lens… and the camera goes offline. “…The fuck?” I mutter.

“Hey, Ty? Melissa here.”

“Go ahead Mel.”

“Camera six in the nursery is offline. I’m going up to reboot it, but looking at the footage there were some weird orbs. Want to meet me there?” I stood and grabbed my field bag of batteries, spare flashlight, tape, and assorted crap.

“Yeah. We’ll head that way now. Meet you in the hallway.”

“Copy,” I said. Turning to Tabitha, our newest member and another tech like me, I said, “Alright, I’m going to check that. You mind the store.”

She moved to sit in the chair I just vacated. “You got it.”

I stepped out of the Sprinter van that served as our tech hub into the warm autumn air and moved to the door near the hospital’s loading ramp. “I’m coming in the service entrance now,” I said just to let the two crews inside know to expect my footsteps inside.

Get a hobby, they said, which is why I found myself walking down the dark hallway of a recently abandoned hospital upstate at three in the morning. My flashlight cast eerie shadows down the white hallways as I made my way towards the nursery. Hospitals keep their nurseries at least a floor up to increase security and make it more difficult for anyone trying to, you know, steal a baby to get out undetected, which meant in the case of this hospital I had three flights of creepy stairwell to look forward to.

As a pre-teen, I had what they call “sleep paralysis” and “night terrors” shortly after moving into my second foster home. What that means is I’d wake up to a dark figure at the foot of my bed staring down at me with red eyes while I couldn’t move. My counselor chalked it up to the stress of a new home, but it sparked an interest in the paranormal that never waned. After I found myself bored, in my late twenties, and spending an unhealthy amount of time outside of my IT job just playing video games, I decided to see if any of the ghost hunters in my city needed a tech.

Five years later, I’m climbing my third flight of stairs, regretting my lack of cardio exercise as I finally reach the third floor that housed the maternity ward. As I opened the fire door, I keyed the mic and panted, “I’m… on… the… maternity… floor, Ty. Where… you at?”

“We’re coming down the stairs on the opposite side. Should see you in a sec…”

Downstairs. Of course they’re coming downstairs… I see the door at the end of the hallway open and a flashlight shine in. I don’t scare easily, but walking through an abandoned hospital in the dark is creepy for anyone, so seeing the light of my friends draw closer definitely calmed my nerves. That is, until we met up in front of the viewing window for the nursery. Inside, all three of us were drawn to the rapid flashing amber light on the back of the teddy bear that indicated it was detecting a strong magnetic field.

We exchanged looks and Tyler and Dale pulled out their own EMF meters as the reached for the door handle. “Shit!” Dale hissed, snatching his hand back. “Doorknob is freezing.”

“Let me,” Tyler said, using the sleeve of his jacket to cover the knob as he opened the door and slipped in followed by Dale. I came in last because, hey, I’m just the tech.

“There’s something strong here,” Tyler said, his meter ticking rapidly.

“I’m getting it too,” Dale confirmed, walking around the edge of the room. “It’s still strong here. There’s something here…”

From experience, I knew there was one of two ways I could have gone at this moment: I could hear and understand their words and get scared as hell and be useless, or I could do my damn job, err, hobby. I chose the latter, and made a beeline for camera 6, efficiently swapping out the battery with a known fresh one and keying the power button. The guys were talking excitedly behind me as the camera went through its bootup cycle and then acquired signal. A moment later my radio crackled to life. “Mel, camera 6 is online now.”

“Copy, Tabitha. On my way back.” Turning to the guys, I said, “Heading back to control,” but they didn’t hear me as they were comparing notes and checking readings.

I let myself out quietly and took two steps towards the stairs when I heard Tyler’s voice inside the nursery. “Mel, stop fucking around. That’s not funny.”

I was outside the nursery and past the windows. How could I fuck with them? I turned back and opened the door and stared at… myself.

A translucent woman stood in front of the teddy bear (whose light was just solid now) raising a hand to touch it. As I entered the door, she turned to face me and I froze. The face looking at me wasn’t mine, but, goddamn, she looked like me – I get why Tyler thought it was me.

“Oh my God,” Dale said, stunned.

“Mel… who is that?” Tyler said.

I managed to swallow my terror long enough to say, “How the fuck should I know?”

The ghost turned completely and took a step towards me before she disappeared from view. No one in the room moved for long moments. The light on the teddy bear went from solid to rapid flashing which slowed and finally went out.

Tyler looked back down at his EMF meter. “We’re alone,” he said.

I took a deep breath as Dale keyed his mic, “Tab? Did you catch that? Camera 6 in the nursery?”

“Checking now…” Tabitha’s voice crackled. “I see the bear REM flashing… hold on… big ass orbs blocking the camera… and the camera is offline again.

I shook myself out of my reverie and checked the meter on the fresh battery – dead. “Jesus…” I swapped another fresh battery in and rebooted it. While the camera started up, the guys kept moving around the room but their EMF meters were quiescent.

“Alright, it’s online again,” Tabitha confirmed on the radio.

“Thanks, Tabith,” I returned. “On my way back, for reals this time,” I clicked off and hurry out of the nursery.

Tyler catches me before I reach the stairs. “Hey, Mel, what was that back there?”

“You’re asking me? You’re the expert here.” (he was) “I have no idea.”

“But it looked just like you!”

“Yeah, that’s nightmare fuel, thanks.”

I got back to the van unscathed, relieved Tabitha at the console, and the rest of the night passed uneventfully – I mean, there were some hot spots and unexplained sounds, a couple more REM traps went off, but nothing like the woman.

As per my usual pattern after one of these investigations, I spent the rest of Saturday in my apartment sleeping. I emerged from the cocoon of my bed around six in the evening and proceeded to order DoorDash. I jumped into the much-needed shower while I waited, letting the water sluice off the musty abandoned hospital funk and the too-many-hours-in-an-enclosed-van funk. I wrapped a towel around myself as I stepped out of the shower and stood at my sink to put my moisturizer on and brush out my hair. I looked at the mirror to make sure I rubbed the lotion in completely when I noticed the face looking back at me wasn’t mine. It was the woman from the hospital. I froze and stared into the face that looked like mine as she stared back, her eyes tracing my face. I couldn’t move as we stared at each other and for a moment I wondered if this was sleep paralysis coming back even if I wasn’t sleeping. The strident buzz from the intercom made me jump back, breaking my phantasmic staring contest. Looking at the mirror, my own reflection stared back, clearly terrified. But it was me. The intercom buzzed again – DoorDash, no doubt. I backed out of the bathroom, watching my reflection warily.

The next morning at our usual Sunday debrief brunch, Tyler asked again if I knew who the ghost was.

I swallowed my mouthful of Denver omelet before saying, “I really don’t know.”

“But she looked just like you…”

“Doppelganger?” Tabitha suggested sipping her coffee.

Tyler considered it, “Could be… but I remember her looking like you, but not being you – if that makes sense.”

“Yeah,” Dale said. “Definitely not actually you. But… it was weird. Do you have a dead twin or anything?” he joked.

“I don’t know,” I answered which caused the rest of the crew to stop mid-bite.

“You don’t know?” Tabitha asked.

“I had foster families. I never knew my mom or dad… or a lost twin?”

“Huh,” Tyler said after a minute. “I guess they would have told you about something like that, right?”

“Unless,” Dale pointed his fork seriously, “Your dad was a Sith lord and your twin sister was hidden away to keep you both safe from the Empire.”

I screwed up my face in mock consideration. “No… not raised on Tatooine. No weird Jedi uncle…”

“Technically he wasn’t Luke’s uncle,” Tabitha corrected.

“Okay, seriously guys,” Tyler said. “There’s got to be something here…”

We ate in silence for a few minutes before I said quietly, “I saw her again.”

The table erupted in overlapping voices asking why I didn’t say anything, saying that meant something, asking for clarification.

“Shut up,” I said quieting them. “I was getting out of the shower and she was… in the bathroom mirror. Then she was gone.”

“She followed you home,” Dale said, eyes wide.

“Apparently,” I said, eyes back down on my omelet. Conversation gratefully moved to other aspects of the investigation.

When we said our goodbyes at the end of brunch, Tyler just said, “Call me immediately if you see her again, okay?”

I told him I would and drove home to do laundry already in progress.

In the middle of folding underwear, I remembered the box of things I kept that represented everything I had when I left foster care. I extracted the weathered cardboard wine box labeled “Melissa’s Foster Shit” from the depths of my bedroom closet, sat on the edge of my bed as I unfolded the top and looked through the contents. A photo album, various transcripts from high school, middle school, and grade school; birthday cards, assorted documents I thought were important; several diaries that I don’t want to ever go back and read… at the bottom of the box was a ragged blanket and below that, a piece of plastic. I reached for the plastic and found it was actually a wrist band… for a tiny wrist. “Melissa Rae Hartwell” was typed in tiny letters on the label affixed to the tiny wristband. Below that was typed:

Sex: female
DOB: 10/21/1993
Mother: Rae Elizabeth Hartwell

I read the last part aloud, “Mother: Rae Elizabeth Hartwell…”

“That’s me,” the voice came from the doorway.

I stared up at the doorway to my room where the voice had come from. The woman from the hospital and my mirror stood there smiling at me.

“The ‘Mother’ part,” she clarified. “Not the Melissa Rae Hartwell part. I mean, that’s you… but you know that,” she stammered.

“I… I see I get my awkwardness from you…” I managed to say.

Her smile grew.

Tears I didn’t know were there started to emerge from my eyes unbidden as I stared at my… mom. “Why? How?”

She closed her own eyes hard, a gesture I recognized from my own attempt to banish my tears – do ghosts have tears? Is it ectoplasm? “Did they tell you…”

“You died giving birth to me? Yeah,” I said.

“Yeah…” she said. “And I watched you in that nursery,” she stepped closer and regarded the wristband I held. “You were so tiny, so perfect…”

“That hospital? I was in that hospital?” Then I recognized the logo on the wristband as the same one from the abandoned hospital. She nodded. “Holy shit.”

“When you left… I tried to follow… but I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave the hospital.” Her gaze tracked up to meet my eyes. “I couldn’t be with my little girl.” Tears fell down her cheeks, too. When they fell, though, they disappeared before hitting the ground. “I’m so sorry, Melissa. I wanted to be with you so badly… at least to be near you if I couldn’t be alive for you…”

What do you say to your mom that you have never met that is standing in your bedroom as a ghost apologizing for being dead?

“It’s okay… mom.” The word felt awkward in my mouth, but also felt like saying the word unlocked something I didn’t know was locked inside me. “You’re… here now. Right?”

She chuckled through her tears. “Yeah, I think so. I mean,” she gestured to her translucent self, “obviously, right?”

I laughed.

“I feel myself fading already,” she said sadly. And already I could see her growing more transparent by degrees. “But I think that I’m here for as long as you’ll have me.”

“What? Like I’m going to have some priest get rid of my mom?”

We both laughed.

I had to squint to make out her fading outline.

“I love you always, Melissa.”

“I love you, mom.”

And she was gone. But for the first time in my life, I felt like I wasn’t alone – in a good way, you know?

I didn’t tell the rest of the crew about my mom. That’s between me and her. I still do investigations with them, though – why wouldn’t I? But I’ll say this: when I’m trudging through some spooky-ass deserted sanitarium or whatever, I don’t worry about what I’ll encounter because I know my mom’s got my back, and I’ll put ghost mom energy against any spook, any day.