Eshtine

ghost story

I had this dream wherein I was a ghost could only enter a house if there was a candle inside. So I started writing it as a story. Never finished it.
First he floated all around the home to get his bearings. Then he came closer to focus on the rough stone and brick. The stones were dark grey, harsh, but they would have had to be to have withstood so many years. He floated higher to peer into a window, resolving to peer into each window of the house's three stories until he found the one promising him access. What he saw within the first so surprised him that he did not immediately enter, as he could have; was it really to be this easy? He nudged himself higher. Next window up--a landing of a staircase. They were here too, masses of them. Next window--a dining room, and here the candles didn't seem as out of place. There were two long, white tapers on either side of the table centerpiece. No others to be seen, but he needed only one to do the job.
He concentrated his gaze on the flame, letting the other taper and the table and the rest of the room blur into unimportance. As he did so, the pane of glass that separated him from the room blurred too, and he stepped inside. The whole operation took less than a minute--as if time touched him now any more than the window did.
In the dining room he found more fire--an English butler type was walking into the room smoking a cigarette. The ghost noted how dark the room was, lit only by streetlights from outside and the twin candles on the table. The lit end of the cigarette glowed orange flecked with grey. He found the beacon irresistible. He followed it and the butler out of the dining room.
The butler topped suddenly in the hallway and turned, staring at the spot where his companion hovered. The butler can't be seeing me, the ghost thought, then found another curiosity overtaking him. If candles allow entrance to houses, what can cigarettes do? He directed himself to pass straight through the man's shoulder. He couldn't even feel the body as he pushed himself through it. The bulter, for his part, registered no surprise, gave no indication he had experience anything unexpected; he just turned and continued down the hall. The ghost was ashamed of himself and what he had just done. He let the butler put some distance between them before he pursued the tiny orange beacon down the hall.