Prologue

Will you believe me if I tell you I see ghosts?

Well, if you do, you're probably crazy, and for my sake I really shouldn't be talking to you because ghosts don't exist. Sure, there'll be some oddballs who will be willing to bet their lives that ghosts do exist, that the dead walk among us. Problem is, if that is true, the existence vampires and werewolves and mutants and aliens won't be too far from the truth. I dread to see the end of humanity if the world is overrun with supernatural creatures so much stronger and faster than we are—and half of them with a taste for humans.

No, if ghosts really do exist, I would have been able to meet my parents, and tell them that I am thankful for all that they had done.

Hmm, I seem to be rambling quite a bit. I guess being in a different plane does that to you. Oh right, how rude… I should probably introduce myself first.

Hi, my name is Elena Sinclair. I am twenty-four years of age, about five feet five inches tall and feeling a little light at the moment—I really hope this one isn't a permanent feature. Can you imagine walking around feeling like you're made of helium? No… I suppose if you're not made of helium you can't. Well, let me tell you, it is annoying! My legs always kick up a little too high when I walk, I feel like an awkward robot. Then again, the weightless feeling would probably help with my running. I love to run, do you?

Oh, look at me. I'm babbling again. And, oh my god, why couldn't I have cut my hair before all these happened? I'm so not used to having my long hair down; I'm a ponytail girl. You know, there have been many comments about why I hardly ever let it down. I always give them absurd responses—my hair turns to snakes if I untie it; gravity doesn't work on it so it floats in the air; it talks so I shut it up with a hair tie. My friends all love and hate me for that.

Well, my colleagues actually. I don't go out much, so my social circle is fairly cringe-worthy. I was a bit of a freak during my early school years, a depressed kid during high school, and finally a stressed university student adapting to life outside the home. Now I work at one of the largest insurance companies dealing with risks and modelling. Yeah, okay, fine. Go ahead, make that face and muse aloud why someone could work with that much math. I won't be offended—it's taken me twenty years to realise that there are people who can't understand it.

I'm rambling again! Oh, I don't care anymore. I'm making you listen to me anyway, so you might as well know the details. What else? Ah…I can't think. It'll come, I guess.

Now…ghosts. Why are we talking about them? Oh yeah, because they are the bane of my existence. True, the ghosts that you know of don't exist. The ghosts I know of, however, are very much real. And I see them all the time.

The ghost of your soul.