Ken’s Blog

Charlotte turned to Brandon. “What is he talking about?”

Brandon looked sheepish. “There are things about me that I haven’t told you. It’s part of my, you know, mystery.”

Charlotte looked angry. “Well that’s great. Just when we were getting to know each other. So now they’re just going to take you away from me? Lock you up somewhere?”

The captain jumped in. “I sorry ma’am, but we’re on a schedule. This isn’t the only literary violation we need to deal with today. I think it might be best if you two say your goodbyes, and then we’ll be on our way with your friend here.”

“Sorry sir, but maybe it would be better if we knew the nature of Brandon’s offense. An informed citizenry is a safe citizenry, right?”

The captain considered this. “You’re right, of course. Here, let me show you.” He pointed to a piece of paper on the desk.

Charlotte started reading, and her eyes widened. She looked at her ghost friend. “Sheldon?” she said, “your name is Sheldon?”

“I’m sorry Charlotte. Not that it matters now. I guess they’re going to take me in.”

Charlotte turned to captain Rosnkranz. “It’s ok. We can fix this.” She picked up a pen from the desk. “Sheldon isn’t such a bad name,” she said to herself, more than to anybody else.

“Hey,” the captain said, “you’re not not really supposed to touch that. We are in the middle of an investigation and that’s government prop….”

The room shimmered for a moment, and captain Rosenkranz and all of his soldiers vanished.

“I don’t think you were supposed to do that,” said the cat.

Charlotte gave the cat a hard look. “Are you sure you want to discuss this? I’m still holding the pen, you know.”

Charlotte’s mother was incensed. “Whoever you are, I don’t think you have the right to just barge in and start arresting people.”

“Ma’am,” Captain Rosenkranz said, “I’m going to have to ask you to back away.”

“Mom!” Charlotte said, “Don’t you know who these soldiers are?”

“Who are they?”

“They’re from the Literary Violations Bureau.” Charlotte looked at Captain Rosenkranz with a mixture of awe and dread.

“Wow,” said Charlotte’s dad, “I’d heard about these people, but I didn’t think they were real.”

“Real is relative,” said the cat.

Pointedly ignoring this last comment, Charlotte turned to the captain. “But why are you coming after us? We haven’t done anything.”

“He has,” Captain Rosenkranz said, pointing at Brandon, who was starting to look very pale, even for a ghost.

“Brandon? Whatever you think he did, I’m sure he’s innocent.”

“Oh, is that what you call him? Why don’t you ask him his real name.”

“You are so brave,” Charlotte said admiringly, “I don’t know many ghosts who would dare to seek out their creator the way you do.”

“Oh it was nothing,” Brandon said, taking off his glasses and cleaning them in one graceful movement, a gesture Charlotte found strangely attractive.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asked shyly.

Charlotte’s dad regarded his daughter with a bemused look. “You do know he’s a ghost, right?”

“Of course I know Brandon’s a ghost, dad. I’m not stupid. I am simply being polite. It’s clear that he’s all alone.”

“He has a cat,” said the cat.

Charlotte did her best to ignore this. “Young people tend to have a more open mind about these things. Humans and ghosts have loads in common. And I, for one, think we should do our best to get close to each other. I mean, from a cultural perspective,” she added hastily.

“Oh how adorable, dear,” Charlotte’s mom said to Charlotte’s dad. “Our daughter is having her very first crush.”

“Well,” her husband smiled in response, “at least we know it’s safe to date the, um, formerly living.”

“It’s ok, Charlotte,” Brandon said, “Your parents just don’t get it. It’s not their fault that they’re too old to understand young people.”

Charlotte’s dad was about to deliver a snappy retort, when suddenly there was a loud crash.

“Everybody stay where you are!” came an amplified voice. “The house is surrounded.”

“What the…” Brandon didn’t have time to finish the sentence before the door slammed open with a loud bang, and a full complement of uniformed soldiers came pouring through, brandishing large and very dangerous looking weapons.

One of the company, clearly its commanding officer, reached toward the walkie-talkie at his shoulder. “Reports of violation confirmed. Perpetrators have been apprehended and will be taken into custody.”

He stepped forward. “I’m Captain Rosenkranz of the LVB, and I am here to officially inform you that you are in violation of section III.A.7 of the literary code. We’re here to take you in.”

Charlotte’s father looked pale. “I think you’d better put that piece of paper down.”

“I don’t see why,” Sheldon said, looking very pleased with himself. “After all, it’s my novel.”

“Yes, but those are not your words.”

Sheldon looked annoyed. “You know, I never liked the name ‘Sheldon’. So why should I be Sheldon just because somebody wrote it down on a piece of paper? I have the right to determine my own identity.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Charlotte said, looking thoughtful. “A novel really belongs to the person who wrote it, not to the person they’re writing about.”

“But I’m not a person, remember? I’m a ghost. The rules are different.”

“You’re playing with fire young man.” Sheldon’t mother looked more worried than angry. “You wouldn’t change the architecture plan of a building after people have moved in, would you?”

“But don’t you see?” Sheldon said excitedly. “That’s because you can’t change the plan after the building’s already built. But this is different. Think of the possibilities. Words can do anything!”

“Yes, words can hurt you,” the cat said.

Sheldon stared at the cat, as though seeing it for the first time, then slowly shook his head. “None of you has any imagination, that’s your problem. I’m right about this, I know I am. Wait, I’ll prove it.”

And before anybody could stop him, he had picked up a pen and was crossing out the word ‘Sheldon’, writing something else in its place.

“Are you sure it’s ok for us to be here?” Charlotte’s mom asked nervously. “It could be seen as breaking and entering.”

“We’re not exactly entering,” Charlotte explained, “because the house belongs to somebody who created our world. So technically we’re exiting.”

“Are there laws against breaking and exiting?” Sheldon asked. Nobody had an answer for that.

Charlotte found the light switch and flipped it on. “Oh my god, what a mess!”

“Ah, the creative mind at work!” Charlotte’s dad marveled.

“Speaking of which,” Charlotte said, “It looks like the study is in here.”

They all stood at the entrance to the room for a long moment, nobody daring to go up to the desk.

“I think this is where he writes it all,” said Charlotte in a hushed voice.

“I’m not sure we should be here at all,” Charlotte’s mom said. “We could still leave. Nobody would have to know.”

They stood indecisively on the threshold of the study.

“Oh, to hell with it!” Sheldon finally said. He strode right up to the desk and picked up a piece of paper, reading aloud. “Hey listen to this. You are not going to believe it.”

“Young man,” Charlotte’s mom said, “Put that piece of paper down this instant.”

“Aren’t you even a little curious to hear what it says?” Sheldon asked.

“I am,” Charlotte said. “Read it to us!”

Sheldon was happy to oblige. “It says: ‘Sheldon, A Novel.'”

Charlotte’s dad was shaking his head. “I’ve never seen a ghost be car sick before.”

“Dear,” his wife said, “you’ve never seen a ghost before.”

“Beside the point. How do you clean this stuff off a car seat?”

“It’s ok dad, it’s ectoplasm. Cleans itself off in no time. I think it turns into ether, or something like that.”

“Aether, not ether,” Sheldon said. “And I wish you wouldn’t all harp on it.” He was still looking a little green. “It’s not like ghosts usually ride in cars. Shouldn’t you all be looking at the house or something?”

They all turned to look at the house. Charlotte was the first to walk up to the door. “This place is a lot smaller than I thought it would be.”

“I don’t think writers make a lot of money,” Charlotte’s dad said helpfully.

“Should we knock?” Charlotte’s mom asked.

Just then, Charlotte noticed that the door was ajar. She peered inside through the crack in the door. “Doesn’t look like anybody’s home.” Before she could decide what to do next, the cat ran between her legs and disappeared into the house.

Charlotte decided it was ok to follow. It wasn’t like they were really strangers. Besides, the cat had said she knew the author.

After only a brief hesitation, the others followed as well. After all, what could go wrong?

They were all in the car, and ready to hit the road.

“Seat belts everyone?” said Charlotte’s mom.

“Check,” said Charlotte’s dad.

“Check,” said Charlotte.

“I don’t think I need a seat belt,” said Sheldon.

“Now Sheldon,” Charlotte’s mom said disapprovingly. “In this family we believe in safety first.”

“Mom’s very strict about those things,” Charlotte explained.

Sheldon looked at Charlotte for a long moment. “Is your mother worried that I’m going to die in an accident or something? Because I think that ship has sailed.”

“Oh, right. Mom, maybe we can skip the seat belt this one time.”

After they had gotten that sorted out, they were on their way.

“I can’t believe we’re going to New York City,” said Charlotte, regarding the dust jacket. “They even give the author’s address.”

Sheldon looked over at Charlotte, then at the volume she was studying. “Hey, is that the book we’re supposed to be in?”

“No, of course not.” She rolled her eyes. “You can’t read the book that you are in.”

“Why not?”

“Because that would be absurd.”

Charlotte suddenly had an insight. “I think I know why Sheldon is getting so upset.”

They all turned to look at her, curious what she would say next. With everyone watching her, Charlotte was starting to feel very self-conscious, but she decided to soldier on.

“It’s because he came here for a reason.”

“Well of course I came here for a reason.” Sheldon said.

“But that’s just the thing, isn’t it?” Charlotte continued. “You don’t know what it is.”

“Well of course I…” his voice trailed off. “Actually, I can’t remember why I came here.” He peered at her. “How did you know that?”

“Because you’re a ghost, silly. You’re not going to suddenly show up at somebody’s house without a reason. But if you already knew the reason, you wouldn’t need to be here in the first place.”

Everybody was staring at her. Charlotte’s dad broke the silence.

“That’s my daughter!” he said proudly.

“When did you learn so much about ghosts?” Charlotte’s mom asked.

“Reading ghost stories, of course.” Charlotte looked at Sheldon sympathetically. “We should help you.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that. But help me with what? Even I don’t know why I’m here.”

The cat, who had been watching silently through all this, finally spoke up. “I know somebody who does.”

They all turned to look at her. “Who’s that?” said Sheldon.

“The author.”

“Really?” Sheldon was glaring at the cat.

“Sheldon,” Charlotte began, but he would have none of it.

“I mean, really? A talking cat?”

“I think you’re missing something here,” Charlotte’s mom said quietly.

“What could I possibly be missing? We’re hanging out with a talking cat.”

“Yes,” she continued, “and we’re also hanging out with a ghost.”

“Please don’t bring my ethnicity into this.”

“I don’t mean to be disrespectful Sheldon, but context really does matter in this case.”

“How so?”

“Well, for one thing, you are a mythical creature.”

“Hello. I’m standing right here.”

“Mom’s got a point,” Charlotte jumped in. “You are standing right here only because you’re in part 8 of a book called ‘Sheldon’. So maybe we need to give some credit to context. I mean, when was the last time anybody met a ghost for real?”

“Yes, but a talking cat?” Sheldon looked pained.

“Now who’s prejudiced?” the cat said curtly.

“Looks like I’ve been missing a real party.” It was Charlotte’s dad. “A ghost with glasses and a talking cat.”

“Not the same thing at all,” Sheldon muttered weakly.

Charlotte started to giggle. “I am trying so hard not to say ‘… walk into a bar …'”

“You’re not helping.” Charlotte’s dad gave his daughter a stern look, before turning back to Sheldon. “Young man, you need to get a grip on yourself. Is Hamlet any more real than Count Gonzago?”

“Count who?” Sheldon and Charlotte both said at the same time.

“Bad example dear,” Charlotte’s mom interjected. “Nobody knows who Count Conzago is.”

“I do,” said the cat.

Which did nothing to make Sheldon feel any better.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” Charlotte said, motioning for Sheldon to be quiet.

“It’s your mother. Who did you think it would be?”

“I don’t know mom, I was hoping for a surprise.”

“Sorry to disappoint you Charlotte. It’s just me.”

“I’m already in bed. What’s up?”

“I heard voices.”

“Maybe it’s the television.”

“We don’t have a TV, pumpkin. We’ve never had a TV. The voices were coming from your room. One of them wasn’t yours.”

“School play.”

“What?”

“I’m practicing for the school play mom. I am supposed to play … a ghost.”

Sheldon rolled his eyes, and Charlotte, turning from the door, looked at him helplessly. She was improvising. “Whoooo. Whooo. You know mom, lots of haunting sounds.”

“Dear,” her mom said.

“Not now, I need to rehearse.”

“Really dear,” her mom said again, “there’s no point. I’m in the room.”

Charlotte turned back around to face the door, only to see her mother standing there, staring.

There was a moment of silence. Finally her mother said “You’ve got a ghost in your room.”

Before Charlotte could answer, Sheldon jumped in. “You must be Charlotte’s mother. I’m glad to see you’re taking this so well. Very pleased to meet you. I’m …”

“Yes,” Charlotte’s mom interrupted, “you must be Sheldon.”

Sheldon looked pale, if a ghost can look pale. “How did you know that?”

From behind him came another voice. “Because,” said the cat, “it’s the name of the book.”