"Ghost Girl Diary Day I don't even know anymore It's been forever and a millio-," I started to say.
"It's been 519 days since you passed away," Another voice interjects.
"How would you even know, mister know-it-all?" I reply as I stick out a phantom tongue in the man's direction, "Anywho, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, it's been forever and a billion years, and that rude, smarty pants with his fancy living body over there is Bartholomew Wycroft. Which is definitely too long. I'm officially shortening it as my right as the ghost princess who rules over this abandoned building. What should we go with? Barty? Bartemous? Balogne? Bart? Yeah, Bart, he's definitely a Bart."
The man visible cringes at the nicknames. I smirk, which I'm sure looks threatening rather than endearing in this annoying ghost body, but oh well. I continue my diary entry before he can answer my earlier question. I know it will bug him until he can properly answer.
"Bart here is the 723rd scribe of the house of Melnor in the country of Dragon Rock or something like that," I say confidently.
Bart visibly pales at my inaccurate information.
"In other words, he really is a know-it-all, and he just so happens to specialize in ghost studies. Apparently, I'm something special, but he won't elaborate beyond saying I have a living soul core thingy majigy. Says I need to learn how to use it for myself, or it would ruin the integrity of his study or something. Apparently, Bart has some special trait that allows him to see ghosts even when we really don't want to be seen." I enunciate the last few syllables harshly, but Bart seems oblivious to the hint.
"The important thing is, I'm no longer drifting aimlessly through space. I finally came upon a planet. I almost missed it, but with some expert maneuvering, I kicked off some poor bloke's soul as he orbited the planet in a satellite. Bart says the dude wouldn't have even noticed me using his soul as a springboard, but he also doubts my account of events. Something about no one being capable of space travel."
"The absurdity of launching oneself into the heavens in a metal can with explosives," Bart mutters.
"After everything, I found this nice, quiet ruin on the outskirts of a nearby town. I scared a few local children. Then Bart shows up with his special eyes, his scrolls, and his questions, and ruins my fun. Hmmmph. End diary entry." I cross my arms and turn away from Bart, visibly pouting.
"Are you quite done with slandering my good name, young lady?" Bart asks.
I turn to him with a grin and imitate his posh tone, "Quite done, my good sir. You may begin your corrections forthright." I float in front of Bart's campfire like an eager student.
"Great! First, it has been 519 days, 7 hours, 23 minutes, and 5 seconds since your death day. I can tell this just as easily as one can determine age from vitality energy, but instead, I use your death energy as the basis for the equations. Next, my name is Bartholomew; it is not to be shortened or altered."
"No can do, Bart."
Bart sighs in frustration. It seems he has fought this battle before and lost.
"You're hopeless. Nevertheless, I am the 724th scribe," he takes care to enunciate the four, "of the house of Gregor. Melnor is our rival house; we've been over this. And the country is Drakkenaur."
"That's what I said, Dragon Knot!" I reply enthusiastically while watching the life drain from Bart's face.
Bart drags a weary hand over his face. He only looked to be around thirty when I first saw him, but he now appears to be ancient beyond understanding. I have no idea why that is.
"Well, at least you got the important parts right. After a few boys were spooked, I was sent to remove a certain pesky ghost." Bart continued.
"Well, that's just rude. Seems like an unnecessary escalation. I'm just minding my own business here when the boys invade my privacy. They should be apologizing to me. A girl has got to have her space after all." I reply haughtily.
"I would've had fewer wrinkles if I just followed through. But you weren't a common spirit that would've harmed the boys. You're a living spirit instead. You don't need to feed, because you aren't truly dead." Bart explained.
"Uh, hello, dead girl here." I wave at my ethereal body, "Living girls don't look like this. I'm pretty sure I died."
"Well, yes, you did, but somehow you managed to maintain your soul core after death, and it even looks like your various energy channels are mostly intact. You should be able to gather, cultivate, and channel various energies similar to a normal person. Though I'm fascinated to see how that works with your spectral physiology. I'm sure it will be much more interesting and effective than the sacrifices evil undead immortals normally use to gain power."
"Immortals? You don't mean the guys that go around beating people up with crazy martial arts and flying around on swords, do you?" I inquire.
"Something like that, do they not have immortals where you come from?"
"Nope, only stories about a naughty monkey king."
"Ah, yes, we have a few naughty monkey kings around here as well. Almost as naughty as a certain young ghost." Bart glares at me accusingly.
"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about. Your scrolls are all exactly where you placed them. If one happens to be missing, it has nothing to do with a young ghost." I feign innocence.
"My scrolls!" Bart rushes off to check his bag of scrolls.
While Bart inspects his scrolls to find which one is missing and then hunts it down using arts I don't understand, I inquire, "Why do you care to correct my diary anyway? It's not even real, I'm just shouting at the air like a crazy lady."
"Not so," Bart replies as he fishes out the missing scrolls from behind a loose brick where I hid them, "Souls are a living, ahem, unliving record of their own lives. With the right tools, you can read a soul's entire life. So if someone reads your soul in the future, I want it very clear that I'm the 724th scribe and not the 723rd scribe; that guy is a jerk. I think you may have even created the tools yourself. Let's try. Ghost Girl Diary, play entry 1."
Out of thin air, I hear my own voice, "So, I died."
"Eeek, diary end playback. Bartholomew Wycroft! Didn't your mother teach you not to read a girl's diary?!"
"Unexpectedly, I now prefer Bart." He says wearily.
"Can just anyone read my diary like that?" I ask, true worry seeping into my voice.
"Fortunately, no, you would have to be incapacitated or trust the individual in question, as you apparently trust me. You really shouldn't worry about that, though. If someone captures you, it won't be for your diary. Which brings you to my final warning before I depart. You must absolutely not reveal your true nature to anyone. If you are playing the part of a ghost, play dumb, stick to routines and schedules like a ghost normally would, and when someone approaches, act aggressively. If, on the other hand, you manage to sneak into the world of the living, it is imperative that you keep up the disguise."
"What do you mean? Why do I have to hide?" I ask, detecting the seriousness in Bart's voice.
"It's because you are a treasure. Wicked and undead immortals could use your living soul core as a premium resource in their cultivation. The unique energy within you could easily push many cultivators up a major realm. For immortals with poor talent, they could replace their talents with your own. Even righteous cultivators would be tempted."
"Wait, you aren't planning on refining me into a treasure, are you?" I ask, half-teasingly, half with real concern.
"Oh no, my study would be ruined. You'd at least need to exhaust your potential so I could finish my report before I would consider refining you into a treasure." Bart explained.
"Your words inspire so much confidence. Like a witch fattening up children with sweets before putting them in the oven."
"Like a what? And why would anyone cook children?" Bart asks, confused.
After explaining the fairy tale, Bart replies, "Precisely so, you shouldn't trust me any more than anyone else. We haven't even tested your talents yet. What if you have something scholarly? My talents are only mediocre; don't expect me to resist that kind of allure. If you have something good, waiting a few centuries for you to 'fatten up' before 'eating' you isn't a bad plan."
A tense silence settles over us as I process how easily Bart would end my existence for his own benefit. In the world, it seems that benefits justify everything. Even friendships forged in fire could fracture in the face of a good enough treasure. In this world, I'll have to hide my true self from everyone I meet, well, once I find a way to disguise myself, anyway. Bart seems confident I'll gain that ability at some point. In the meantime, I just need to act like a rabid ghost. It also seems I've already misstepped. Although Bart is open about his intentions if I prove to be valuable to him, that's the confidence borne from power. If I gain talents with even the barest hints of something scholarly, I'll need to either run or hide my exact talents, and I don't think either is feasible against a scribe of the kingdom.
Bart interrupts the silence, "You know, it's getting awkward just calling you ghost girl, do you have a name?"
I go to answer, but then find that I can't answer. I search my memory, but my name simply isn't there.
"Ah, retrograde amnesia, fairly common among ghosts, I'm afraid. Quite a shame." Bart shakes his head theatrically.
I search my mind for facts about my old life, "No, I can remember how I died! It's not all gone, just my name."
"But of course, a ghost is going to be imprinted upon with the events of its death, but can you remember anything about your friends or family?" Bart asks with exaggerated remorse.
In my panic, I struggle to recall anything concrete for a moment, until I see Bart's smirk hidden behind his mustache and beard. He got me good. Here I thought the scholar didn't have a mischievous bone in his body.
"You bastard!"
"In my defense, everything I said was true, about normal ghosts. In your unique case, I think, you've forgotten your name because it isn't your true name. Until you find what that is, you won't remember any other name applied to you, so for now, I guess we stick with ghost girl."