31 Ghosts – Dead Web

Be careful of those unknown Wi-Fi names…

I first heard the rumor when I was high.

It was burning man, and it was hot and dusty, and – if I’m honest – a little boring. So, I chose high. As high as I could get, as long as I could get. Add an extra hit of acid when they torched the burning man for good measure.

The guy who told me about the “dead web” purported to not be of this world himself. I mean, he literally glowed – drugs or ghost? You be the judge. But he told me that a number of Burning Mans back, some rich tech bro had a heart attack on the way back from the desert and died in Fernley, Nevada. For whatever reason (he was scarce on details… or I was just that high) they buried him in the cemetery there. But instead of dying quietly and fitting in like any good dead person would, apparently this guy started an internet portal for the dead.

This wasn’t the Dark Web – this was the Dead Web.

I talked to Eliot about detouring into Fernley on the way back and he agreed. I was so stoked to check this out that I decided to detox early – no drugs the entire last day. Except, you know, for weed. And MDMA. But that’s it – I didn’t even do that acid I mentioned above during the burning. Well, I didn’t do both hits at least…

We got a late start the next day, so I was mostly sober by the time we got out of the desert and started into the outskirts of Fernley. I bribed Eliot with an early dinner at the Black Bear Diner and then we dozed in the car until midnight.

Did I mention the midnight part? The guy who might have been a ghost or a drugged-out hallucination specified this only worked at midnight.

At midnight we turned down Vine Street and then went right on Mission Way and stopped in front of Fernley Desert Memorial Cemetery. I don’t know what I expected – maybe some spooky prospector cemetery or weathered rows of headstones from pioneers – but whatever it was, this did not match my imagination. The place looked like a gated trailer park minus the trailers. I mean, there were graves there, but… it was sadder than “Joe’s Hobo Omelet” Eliot ordered at the Black Bear Diner.

I turned off the car and Eliot started to get out.

“Whoa, bro, where are you going?”

“You were the one who wanted to go into the cemetery at midnight, right?”

“I just wanted to get here – I don’t think we need to go in.”

“How close do we have to get in?”

I had my phone out and was scrolling through the network settings. “Just close enough to pick up the Wi-Fi…”

And there it was: the only entry in the available Wi-Fi networks was an unsecured listing for “Dead Web”. I touched the “Dead Web” entry and there was a spinning dot indicating it was trying to connect. And then the check mark indicating it was connected – only instead of the normal blue, the check mark was black. A log in screen automatically popped up displaying a EULA (End User License Agreement) with an “Agree” button at the bottom. I scanned the text but couldn’t actually read it. I don’t know if it was the resolution on my phone or I was just tired, but the more I squinted and tried to read the terms and conditions the more the text looked like garbage. The only thing I could make out clearly was “By agreeing you forsake your eternal soul.”

Eliot was reading over my shoulder, nodded and said, “That seems legit.”

I agreed and hit “Accept.”

My screen changed. It was like going from the “Light” setting to the “Dark” setting, but… darker. Like, indescribably darker. Staring at my phone in this mode made me feel the phone looking back at me. Going back to my home screen, the apps had changed. Instead of Facebook it was the same logo but the name below the icon listed it as “Facelessbook”. Pinterest was now “Pinterest In Peace”. “Tinder” became “Tremble”.

I clicked on Tremble and got the familiar Tinder interface of a picture and the option to swipe right to accept the match or swipe left to reject. But the first picture it brought up was a sepia toned picture of an old prospector-looking grizzled guy named “Jasper”.

“Not really your type, dude,” Eliot offered helpfully.

“No,” I agreed, “but I’m curious…” I swiped right. The app announced I was now communing with Jasper and a chat interface popped up.

“What is this?” Eliot echoed my thoughts.

“I don’t know,” I said, “but let’s chat with whoever this Jasper is.” I typed “Hi Jasper! R u a ghost?

Dots appeared indicating Jasper was apparently typing. The dots stopped and Jasper’s reply came across, “Sure am. Though I do appreciate this new-fangled device so I can contact the living.”

“Ha, look at that!” Eliot said. “Contact the living!”

“How do you like being a ghost?” I typed.

“Oh, it’s fine, I guess. It’s not heaven like I thought. But it’s not the burning place neither.”

We both laughed and I started typing something else, but the dots appeared again and disappeared. The text popped up, “How do you like being a ghost?”

“What is he—” I started to say but everything got dark suddenly.

When I came to, I was out on the Playa in the Black Rock Desert, but all the cars and trailers and art installations and people were gone. I turned in a circle and when I came back around a grizzled old prospector stood in front of me.

“Boo!” he said with a toothless smile.

I jumped. “Where am I?”

“Blackrock Desert. Welcome to haunting!”

“But I’m not… I’m not dead!”

His toothless smile broadened. “That’s what you agreed to in the EULA. You did read it, didn’t you?

Panic rose. I noticed that even though it was the middle of the night and seemed really cold, I wasn’t feeling the chill.

“Where’s Eliot?” I asked frantically.

The prospector thought a minute and then said, “Oh, that fella you were with? He put up quite a fuss when he found out he was a ghost. He really wanted to haunt that Black Bear Diner. Weird.”

31 Ghosts – No Filter

I grabbed a Diet Coke from the fridge and started back towards my room when I noticed my little sister staring intently at her phone – like, more intently than she usually does. I stared at her for several minutes. That usually drives her nuts, but today she didn’t even notice.

“What gives, Squirrel?”

Without looking up or putting any emotion into the words, she replied, “I’m not a squirrel.”

I waited a moment longer and when she didn’t follow it up I stood behind the couch to see what she was looking at so intensely. “Reddit? I didn’t even know you knew what Reddit was.”

That got her. She tore her eyes away from the screen of her phone long enough to roll them and sigh dramatically. “Of course I know what Reddit is. Duh.”

“Okay,” I said, “What’re you looking at? Tips on doing cat’s eye makeup that mom won’t let you go out with,” I love needling her.

She gave me her best tween scowl. “For your information, I’m reading about this new TikTok filter.”

I chuckled to myself, “Yeah, really deep stuff, Squirrel.”

She threw a pillow at me. “I’m not a squirrel!” she exclaimed, but then followed with, “This is serious, Annie – there’s, like, this whole paranormal conspiracy and stuff around it.”

I arched an eyebrow at her. “Paranormal conspiracy, Squirrel?”

She sighed dramatically again – I swear she’s been practicing that in a mirror. “Come here – this is super weird.”

My natural tendency was to brush her off and go back to my room – she was my little sister. Honestly, I don’t think she’s ever had anything interesting to share. But, I don’t know… maybe it was how serious she was… I moved around and took a seat next to her on the couch. “Alright, Squirrel, what’s up?”

“Okay,” she said, switching to the TikTok app on her phone and checking her liked videos, “watch this…” I looked at the screen.

A girl my age looks into the screen as eerie music plays in the background. “This filter is supposed to show ghosts around you…” she explains and then the image stills while a colored circle with the word “TikTok” fills indicating a filter is being applied. When it reached 100%, the image starts moving again, and behind the girl a ghoulish figure stares at the screen. The girl screams and the video goes wonky as the girl presumably dropped her phone.

“Cute,” I said. What am I supposed to be seeing?” I said with a trace of impatience in my voice.

Look,” she said as if it were self-evident (spoiler: it wasn’t). She scrolled back the video to just after the filter was applied and the ghoulish face appeared and she paused it. “See that face?”

“The ‘ghost’?” I made air quotes.

“Yeah. Now check this out…” she swiped the screen back to Reddit. “This is in the r/Paranormal group.” She pulled up a post that had side-by-side images – one was the ghoulish face from the TikTok video and the other was a crying boy, maybe five years old. “See?”

“Okay, yeah, the faces look similar, but little kids crying always look ghoulish.”

“That kid is the TikTok poster’s brother. He died a year before when he fell into their pool.”

“Jesus, that’s dark, Squirrel.”

“There’s more. This whole thread is filled with examples from people using that filter and getting ghosts showing up behind them that bear an uncanny resemblance to someone dead that they knew.” She started scrolling through the thread and the side-by-side photos certainly seemed uncanny if nothing else.

“I mean, okay, that’s weird… I’ll give you that.”

She turned to me suddenly. “I tried it.”

“Madelaine Elizabeth Williams,” I exclaimed her full name, shocked into using what I’m sure would eventually be my mom voice, “Why did you think that was a good idea?”

But she ignored me and flipped the apps on her phone back to TikTok and opened up the videos she created – it looked like a lot of makeup attempts (called it!).

“Mom is going to kill you, Squirrel!”

She ignored me. “Look at this,” she chose the one non-makeup-related video. It was my little sister staring into the camera – from the background it looked like it in the living room where we were sitting. I wondered how long ago she made the video. Before I could ask, the colored circle indicating the filter being applied started rapidly counting up to 100%. When the image started moving again, a ghostly figure gaped from behind my sister whose eyes tracked its movement in the screen. She paused the video. “Do you see it?”

“It looks like that Troll from that 80’s horror movie we weren’t supposed to see,” I said.

“Really, that’s what you see?” she said with more incredulity than I think I’d ever heard from her.

“Yeah. What am I supposed to see?”

She flipped to another app and showed me her own side-by-side with the troll ghoul on one side… and our Dad’s dad on the other side.

“Gramp Gramp?”

“It’s crazy, right?”

“What? That Gramp Gramp looked like a troll? I mean, he was like a hundred and fifty when he died… everyone looks like a troll at that age…” I joked because… she was right. There was a resemblance I couldn’t deny. I think she could see I knew she was right. We were both quiet for a long time.

“You do it,” she said finally.

“Wait, what? I mean, no. Why would I…” I stammered. But, honestly, I was a little scared.

“Are you scared?” She smirked at me. Damnit, I wasn’t going to let my little sister think I was scared.

“Fine,” I said cooly and reached for her phone. “How do I do this stupid thing?”

She switched to the TikTok app and held the phone in front of me pressed the “Record” button. I stared at my own face and tried to ignore the zit starting to form right above my nose…

“Alright…” I said, “now what?”

She pressed another button and the filter percentage circle started counting up. Finally, it reached 100% and a ghost appeared over my shoulder. My mouth dropped open. The ghoulish ghost figure behind me was… my own face.

31 Ghosts – Phantom Limb

I startled awake and became immediately aware of a few things all at once: my mouth and throat felt like they were made of sandpaper and I wasn’t able to sit up because something was holding me down. 

“Whoa there, Tay,” said a voice and gentle pressure of a hand on my chest. Then to someone else, “Go grab the doctor and tell him Taylor’s awake!” Back to me: “You’re okay, Taylor. You’re okay…”

“Why—” I started but my voice felt like fire coming up my sandpaper throat. I coughed.

“Shh…”

“Maj?” I croaked out.

“You got it, Tay. I’m Marjorie. Take it easy. You’ve been out a while…”

I heard people enter the room. “Good afternoon, Mister Nichols,” said a voice I didn’t know. She sounded confident, though. “Do you know where you are?”

I took in all the clues my mind had been processing during these first minutes of consciousness. I sniffed and smelled… myself. Eew. But also antiseptic. And… was that the annoying beeping of a heart monitor? “Hosp—” I coughed again, swallowed roughly and tried again, “Hospital?”

“Excellent,” the new voice said. “Do you know why you’re here?”

I thought hard and just shook my head. I tried to think past the thick fogbank that obscured anything in my brain. Maj and I were going somewhere in my car… “Acc…accident?”

“Do you remember the accident?”

So there was an accident! Crap! “Maj?!”

“I’m right here, buddy,” she patted my shoulder. “I’m okay.”

“What… happened?”

There was a pause – I didn’t like that pause. It said there was something no one wanted to tell me.

“We were T-boned,” Maj said. Even though I had no memory of it, I involuntarily winced. “Yeah, pretty bad. Driver’s side…” another pause. “Your side,” she said, her voice cracking.

“You’ve been unconscious for a while, Mr. Nichols. There was some swelling in your brain that we were most concerned about. You’re still pretty heavily drugged, but we removed the breathing tube yesterday and we’ve been easing you back.

I nodded but couldn’t process that the words pertained to me.

“We’ve been waiting for you to come around, buddy,” Maj said, patting my right shoulder.

I reached up to pat her hand back… but I couldn’t. My heart beat faster. Why couldn’t I move my arm? I looked towards my left arm, and I heard Maj’s breath catch.

“I’m sorry,” the doctor said, “Your arm was crushed in the accident. We couldn’t save it.”

I was aware of the beeping heart monitor machine speeding up even as it started to sound fainter for some reason.

“Tay?” Maj said from a great distance away.

“He’s going under again,” the doctor said.

The next time I woke up I still didn’t remember the accident, but I remembered the conversation. They must have really lightened the drugs because my brain felt less foggy. I opened my eyes and noticed it was dark – well, as dark as a hospital room ever gets. I was alone. I moved my right arm and was gratified to feel the tactile blankets and side of the bed – actually feel them. So, my right arm was still there. There was an IV line in it, but it was still there. I groped around and felt a bedside table and found what I was looking for – my glasses. The hospital room comfortingly resolved in my bespeckled vision. But after a quick look around at my surroundings, my gaze fell on the mass of bandages just below my left shoulder. I couldn’t look away. I don’t know how long I stared, but I must have fallen asleep because I woke blinking away the sun streaming into the room.

A nurse drew the curtain and then noticing I was awake said, “Good morning! Glad to see you’re awake! I’ll let your doctor know,” and quickly left.

I looked down at the bandages around my left shoulder and gasped – the bandages were still there, but my arm was there! I tried to flex my left hand but nothing. I tried to bend the arm… but nothing again. But it was there. My arm!

The doctor came in and I didn’t wait for her to say anything. “My arm!”

“I know, Mister Nichols, it’s hard to adjust to the idea that—”

“It’s there!” I said, pointing to it with my right hand.

A puzzled look came over her face for a moment, and then realization. “Mister Nichols, there’s something called ‘phantom limb syndrome’ where sometimes when we lose an arm or a leg we have the feeling that it’s actually still there even though it’s not.”

I looked to her, then back at the very corporeal arm. “But… it’s right there!” I said. Then, as if cued to movement I watched as my left arm bent and flexed my fingers experimentally, then the hand rotated around and the fingers contracted. Well, most of the fingers. My hand just flipped me off.

The next few days were a blur – no, I mean seriously, I was still on some pretty heavy drugs. But what I remember very clearly was my damn broken ribs. Wow, those hurt right through the drugs. But aside from the broken ribs was the arm. After getting the bird from an appendage you thought had loyalty to you, I realized it wasn’t actually my arm. And, honestly, flipping me off was one of the kindest things it did. In those following days, the arm, in no particular order, tried to choke me, slap me, poke my eyes Three Stooges-style, tried to knock over a full glass of water, grope Maj regularly, and once reached very angrily towards a butter knife – how did I know it was angrily reaching for the knife? I just knew. I just knew. But none of those attempts came of anything because this wasn’t a phantom limb, after all – it was a ghost limb.

I was discharged from the hospital, but that just meant recovering at home. I talked to my boss and HR and we talked about long-term disability and my job still being there, all the while I stared at my ghost arm making jerking off gestures and twiddling its thumb. When the call ended I said to my arm, “You know twiddling one thumb looks really stupid.”

It flipped me off.

“Wait, you can hear me?”

It made gesture that I could only assume was supposed to be a light bulb moment. The fist nodded in a surly way. Then the hand started moving, the finger tracing something in the air.

“What are you doing? What’s that… Is that an ‘I’?”

Thumbs up.

“M…J…U….S…T…A…N…A…R…M…. I’m just an arm? Yeah, obviously!”

The fist clenched angrily.

“Oh, you’re not done.”

The fist shook negative, then started drawing letters in the air.

“M…Y…B…O…D…Y…I…S…O…U…T…T…H…E…R…E. Your body is out there?

The hand pointed far away.

“Ah, like out in the world somewhere?”

The fist nodded.

It took a lot more spelling, but the arm told me that he lost his arm, too – duh, right? But unlike my me, he bled out.

“Wait, so you lost an arm, died… and now I have your arm, but your armless ghost is stuck here, too?”

It spelled out “I’m not armless. I’ve still got one arm, dipshit.”

“Really? You needed to spell out ‘dipshit’?”

It flipped me off again but was dancing the middle finger around in glee.

“Great,” I said, “You’re very disarming.” I started laughing. The arm tried to stick the finger up my nose.

I explained the situation to Maj, and then I explained it again more slowly. And then she checked my prescription bottles to make sure I wasn’t taking too much, and I explained it all one more time. She finally came around to the idea that we were going to have to find the arm’s body, but it would still be another week before I felt well enough to ride in the (rental) car. During that time, the hand signed everything it knew about where we could find its body.

When I finally climbed into the passenger seat of the car, I’ll admit I was feeling pretty nervous – less about taking a ghost arm to search for it’s one-armed body like some weird spectral version of The Fugitive and more about going out in the car. I was pretty drugged up on the way home from the hospital, so this was my first real outing since the accident. I still didn’t have any memory of what happened, but I had seen the police photos and just being out brought the liminal images of the crushed cars into my brain – like phantom memories, almost. The arm, maybe sensing my apprehension, tried patting my leg comfortingly. I mean, the hand passed right into my thigh every time, so that was weird, but it was a nice gesture.

Maj drove us through town to the industrial area, past idling trucks at loading docks. The sun was nearing the horizon and most of the sprawling parking lots were deserted of their daily occupants. As we started to get closer, the hand started pointing right and left. I called out to Maj and she turned the appropriate way until we found ourselves at a non-descript cement block of a building, the gray stone finish streaked with years of dirty rain and smog. The arm pointed wildly towards the back of the building. I directed Maj and we found ourselves by the back loading dock.

I don’t know if I saw him first, or the arm did – I mean, I guess the arm was seeing it through my eyes? I’m not really sure how that worked, but I saw a figure searching near the enormous dumpster. Only as we got closer, I could see it wasn’t exactly a dumpster, it was an industrial-sized trash compactor. And the figure was missing an arm. I didn’t need the arm to spell this one out for me…

“Maj, he’s here,” I said.

“He?”

“The arm’s owner. Handler?”

“Handler! Ha! I see what you did there…”

The arm tried to slap me.

I opened the door and started out. The ghost looked up and our eyes met. We walked slowly towards each other. We stopped a few feet apart. He was staring at the arm – his arm.

“I don’t know how, but I managed to end up with your arm.”

He looked up at me and nodded. We were silent for what seemed like a long time.

“I’m sorry, I don’t really know what else to say. Should we finish this, err, arms deal?”

The ghost rolled his eyes.

The arm reached out and the man reached out with his right hand. When the two hands met, I felt something like a deep electrical shock right in the bandaged left arm socket. At the same time the space around the man lit up in brilliant, shimmering light. When my eyes adjusted, I could see the man smiling, holding his now-attached left arm with his right hand, flexing the fingers of his left hand and grinning broadly. He looked up at me and mouthed “Thank you” before the light flared blindingly and then winked out completely leaving the area seemingly darker than before.

“What the hell was that?” Maj asked coming up next to me.

“You know,” I smiled, “Just arming a ghost.”

“Ugh,” she groaned. “I think I need some of your drugs!”

We started back towards the car. “Are you saying you can’t hand-le this?”

“Keep going, Tay, and I’m personally going to take off your other arm.”

She was joking, but the thought made me think about my missing arm for a moment. It felt… gone. I was sad for the loss of my arm, of course, but I was glad that I wasn’t feeling the phantom limb.

I’d had just about enough of phantom limbs…