“We have a special on bottled water as well. I know the beach is often pretty foggy and that’s what you come here for, but remember that this isn’t the same as normal fog. The sun is out on the other side of it, so you’re basically walking through a hot humid cloud.”

“Oh! Thank you; I’ll take a six-pack.” Ghost hunters were among the most predictable of our guests, and the easiest to encourage to purchase necessary supplies. The fog on the beach did not burn off the way normal fog did, but remained through sun and rain and night and day, leaving it always beautiful in a wild, mysterious sort of way, a big draw for tourists … and very difficult to use as a beach. Not that I ever minded. I was always a creature of mist and spray.

“That’ll be $16.95.”

“Thank you. I’m so looking forward to seeing the Woman in White!” She paid and started for the door.

Once she was outside, a human with large bat wings coming from her shoulder blades dropped out of the rafters to land beside me. Carmine, my sister, never took a less dramatic route when there was a more dramatic one to be had.

“You’re not supposed to lurk up there!” I told her, though I was aware it was useless.

“Where else am I supposed to lurk?” Carmine fluttered her wings. “You’re the one who looks like a human, so you’re the one who gets to interact with the customers. And you’re not doing it well. You didn’t even tell her to have a spooky day!”

“Sometimes I don’t bow to the dictates of our corporate overlord.”

“You mean our mother?”

“I’m really not sure ‘mother’ would be the right word there,” I muttered. “Creator, maybe.” Our so-called mother had pulled me from the fog, although I did not remember anything of how it had been done. Carmine … well, I was pretty sure I didn’t want to know the details of what had happened with Carmine.

“Give you one summer interacting with the humans and you get all bitter. It’s disgusting.” Carmine flicked a finger against my cheek. “They would be terrified if they knew how you really look.”

“They come from thousands of miles to see me and try to take pictures,” I said with a light laugh.

“And then when they do see you they panic and scream and get a blurry photograph of something that looks like a fog wraith. I wonder what that woman would think if she knew the Woman in White was the one encouraging her to be adequately hydrated!”

“Now, you’re not going to ruin my mystique, are you? The Woman in White is half the reason people keep turning up here. The tourist dollars must flow.” It was why I’d been pulled from the fog in the first place. A beach with an eternal fog is half a ghost hunter attraction already. Add a proper ghost and … well, let’s just say the economy depends on tourists.

“I don’t get to go play with the tourists. Or even mind the store.”

I rolled my eyes. “Having bat wings coming out of your shoulder blades is hardly conducive to the town aesthetic. Which means you don’t have to work two jobs, one here and one on the beach.”

Carmine gave her an annoyed look. “Yeah, yeah, rub it in that you get to have all the fun.”

“It’s not fun, Carmine; it’s work.”

“Maybe it should be fun. You should live a little, try scaring them a little more than just appearing out of the fog. It’s not like they can capture more than a blur on camera. You could mess with them a lot more than you do.”

“And what, pray tell, is the point of messing with them further?”

“I just told you, fun. I dare you to go farther with--” Carmine glanced at the credit card receipt-- “Melody. Talk to her a little. Haunt her more than just the brief glimpse you usually give.”

I sighed. That sounded like the opposite of fun, but if I didn’t give in now Carmine would pester me until I did and the whole thing would get out of hand.

“If you insist,” I said. “But if I’m doing extra work haunting people for your amusement, you get to close tonight.”

Carmine grinned. “Just make sure you tell me all about it afterwards!”

*     *     *
I did not appear in photographs. Normally I was only a vague haunting, a mist-woman who appeared wreathed in fog only for a moment before fading back into the sea. Mother always cautioned me not to spend too much time in my fog form, and I didn’t particularly want to find out why. But for this … more attention paid. What would that look like, exactly? What did one do as a proper haunting?

The beach was always my home ground. I started there as I ever did, floating through the fog to see who was around. The tourist woman—Melody—clutched her camera in her hands and looked around intently. I coalesced in front of her, something which even Carmine admitted was an impressive effect. One moment, swirling fog, the next moment a haunting face. It took a moment for Melody to realize what she was seeing, and then she grabbed for her camera. I instinctively dissolved back into the fog as though afraid of being seen. Normally this was where I would go on to another tourist.

But I was supposed to be paying Melody more attention.

Voice, then. I never spoke to my marks. It would give her something new to be alarmed about.

As an indistinct mist, I floated closer and whispered, “Melody,” in a wailing voice that sounded like the wind off the sea.

Melody jumped and began to look around.

“Is someone there?” she called. When there was no answer, she shook herself. “Clearly the atmosphere is getting to me,” she muttered. “There are no records of the ghosts here knowing people’s names.”

“Melody …” I called again, a little louder. Then, on impulse, I brushed against Melody’s shoulder. That, I knew, felt odd—rather like a cold mist had fallen upon one’s flesh, dampness pervading even through layers of clothing.

Melody froze, clearly shaken, and looked harder into the mist. “How do you know my name?” she whispered in a quavering voice.

I decided that was enough for now. She would either dismiss me as a hallucination or she wouldn’t, but I didn’t want to unequivocally reveal myself without a better assessment of her reaction.

Which was not going to be enough for Carmine, meaning I was going to have to come back out to the beach again after my next shift.

*     *     *
Melody seemed much more intent the next day, staring into the fog with active expectation she might see something. She also looked a little frightened. I ruthlessly repressed my guilt about this. Carmine would taunt me forever if I was too softhearted to drive one tourist woman a little mad, and anyway, I wasn’t going to actually hurt her. I was giving her what she wanted, a real supernatural experience. She came here looking for me. I was giving her attention.

“Melody,” I called in my wind-wail voice.

Melody whirled, frantically trying to look in all directions at once. “Where are you?” she asked.

“Right here …” I called.

“I don’t see anyone!”

“Oh, but you will …” I almost laughed at her expression, a mixture of alarm and longing. Well, she had come here to see a ghost; I supposed some longing made sense. She looked frantically around the beach, but the only thing visible was the eternal fog, so thick there was no way she could see more than a handful of feet in front of her.

I floated forward and allowed my face to become just visible amid the gloom.

She cried out and leaped back. I went invisible again immediately.

“Is that any way to treat a friend?” I asked. “I came looking just for you …”

“For me?” she whispered, and held out a hand. “Did you … am I chosen?”

I had no idea what she meant by that, but it sounded appropriately ominous.

“Yes,” I said. “I’ve chosen you.” I flitted forward again, wrapping the fog around me so I appeared as a barely-visible wraith. “You can see me.” I reached out a spectral hand and brushed her neck, just briefly. She would feel it as water droplets and cold air. “You can touch me.”

She gasped and held out a hand as I danced back out of reach and faded into the fog once again.

She looked frantically through the fog. “Where did you go?” she cried out. “Why me? What do you want?”

My reluctance to fade back into the fog surprised me. This was just something I was doing to appease my sister. It wasn’t anything fun and I had a shift to get to. Being yelled at for being late was not worth playing with the tourist.

*     *     *
Throughout my shift, anytime there was a quiet moment I found my thoughts turning back to Melody and the frantic look in her eyes as I faded away. For some reason I liked it, wanted to see more of it. Seeing her fear and desire satisfied something primal inside me, soothed a hunger I didn’t even know I had.

I woke up early the next morning and headed down to the beach. Just for a brief check, I told myself. Melody probably wasn’t even at the beach yet. I had been paying her too much attention; I would use this time to appear to a few other selected tourists, keep my reputation up. I would just check where she was briefly, to demonstrate to myself that she wasn’t there.

But she was there. She was asleep on the beach.

Surely there was no harm in just a bit of haunting before work. I floated down and drew a hand over her face. It would feel like being struck with a cold mist, and sure enough she woke with a start, sitting up rapidly to look around.

“Hello?” she asked. “Ghost?”

“Were you waiting for me?” I asked. “How sweet.”

“I wanted to see you again,” she said.

I let my form coalesce a little, so she could see me. “Still haven’t got a good photo?” I asked.

“No! I mean, that’s not—that wasn’t—I didn’t even bring my camera.”

She hadn’t, I realized. Nor had she brought any sort of sleeping bag. Her hair was wild and she looked a bit pale and wan, as though she hadn’t slept well.

“Just wanted my company?”

“I just … I had to see you again.”

“So sure I’m real? Not just a dream you had on the beach, or a trick of the fog? You could be hearing voices …”

She drew her legs up to her chest and hugged her knees. “I want you to be real.”

That tugged at my heart. People looked for me, and sometimes they believed, but no one had ever wanted me to be real for my own sake before, only for the pictures they could take or the proof of ghosts they could achieve.

“Most people don’t,” I said. “They just want to be scared.”

“You’ve never talked to anyone before. The Woman in White just wails. But you picked me. You chose me. You know my name.”

Carmine had chosen her far more than I had. But then, here I was again, taking time before my shift to haunt this woman. I couldn’t name why, couldn’t explain it. I shouldn’t be doing it. I just … it felt right.

“What you want doesn’t necessarily mean anything,” I said. “I might still be a hallucination …” I floated close again, stroked her cheek with my hand. “You might be going crazy.”

“I’m not,” she said, but she sounded a little uncertain.

The bong of the village clock sounded over the beach. Inwardly I cursed. I was late for work. I vanished immediately, ignoring Melody’s little cry of distress, and traveled swiftly back to the store, where I resumed my more corporeal form before going in. It was harder than it should have been, like my body didn’t want to be solid.

Possibly this was what the warning against spending too much time in my fog form was about. I decided it might be a good idea to skip the beach that night.

Carmine stood at the counter with a thick cape draped over her wings.

“You’re late,” she said.

“I lost track of time.”

“Doing what? It’s too early to be out haunting.”

“Oh, you know, things. Sometimes I just want to enjoy the day. Why should the tourists get all the fun?”

Enjoy the day. I wanted to still be enjoying the day. The scent of the fog and the sight of Melody’s pale face called to me; I wanted to tease her again. There was a pleasantly odd shivery feeling in my body at the thought.

I needed to stay out of my fog form for a bit, though, so that would have to wait.

The bell jingled. As if my thoughts had summoned her, Melody came into the store. Under the bright lights of the store she looked rather worse than she had on the beach. She was so pale as to be almost white except for the dark circles under her eyes. Her clothes looked rumpled, as though she hadn’t changed them in a day or two, and her hair was actively tangled.

“Rough night?” I asked, doing my best to look sympathetic and keep my voice level.

“I slept on the beach,” she said, in a vague, distracted voice. “I saw the Woman in White … I heard her … she spoke to me …”

A shudder ran through my body and it was all I could do to hold my form. What was wrong with me? I had never had any problem staying corporeal before. (Definitely needed to stay off the beach for a few nights. Staying corporeal was important. Hopefully Carmine hadn’t noticed my instability.)

“She was just there,” Melody continued. “So I have time to get some food before she comes back. But I have to get back to the beach. I have to see her again.” She scanned the snack display, although she seemed to have some trouble focusing on it.

“You don’t look so good,” I said reluctantly. “Maybe you should stay away from the beach for a few days.” The idea pained me, but I hadn’t wanted to really hurt the girl. (And, I reminded myself, I was also going to be staying away from the beach for a few days!)

“I can’t,” she said. “She’ll come back. She chose me.” She set an assortment of snacks on the counter. Carmine began ringing them up.

“At least get some coffee,” I said. “On the house.” I handed her one of the styrofoam cups and gestured to the machine.

She gave me a little smile and filled the cup before heading rapidly in the direction of the beach.

Carmine gave me a sideways glance. “Enjoying the day?” she asked slyly.

“You’re the one who dared me!” I said.

“Fine. You win. You can go back to being dull and only haunting them briefly again; I won’t say a word about it.”

I smiled at her, but I had an odd sense of disappointment at the thought. Only haunting people a little was what I wanted, right?

*     *     *
At the end of my shift, I debated seeing if any of my friends were free, but the idea seemed empty. Hollow. My body felt uncomfortable; corporeality felt wearying. After several minutes staring at the street trying to force myself back towards town, I could bear it no longer and released myself into fog.

Just for a little while, I told myself. Just enough to take the edge off, before I became corporeal again.

And if I was going to be fog for a little, I might as well head for the beach. One last time to see Melody. She was waiting for me. I should at least tell her goodbye so she wasn’t sitting on the beach for days. She clearly needed a shower and some rest.

The fog felt more natural than it ever had, more like home. It was so lovely not to be corporeal, to exist as just mist and vapor. (But I was going to practice being corporeal for a few days after this. It was important. I knew it was important. I couldn’t remember why, but I knew it was.)

I found Melody quickly, seated listlessly in the sand. She looked even worse than before. The food she had purchased sat in a pile beside her. As I watched, she brought a candy bar to her mouth, tried to take a bite, and gagged.

“Melody,” I whispered, and formed visibly in front of her.

She looked up eagerly and a little life returned to her features. “You’re back,” she breathed.

“I just couldn’t stay away,” I said. It was truer than I wanted it to be. I felt more centered by the moment, just watching her.

“From me?” She sounded delighted, but there was a muted quality to it. “You wanted to see me?”

“You’re such a draw,” I murmured. “I haven’t haunted anyone else the last few days … just you.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I came here to find you. Didn’t think … you would be interested in me.”

“How could I be otherwise?” I had no idea why she should draw me so, why paying even a little attention to this random human had caused such a fixation, but I had thought of little else since I had begun. There was something about watching her reach for me, the devotion involved in staying out on the beach … the fog was so comfortable, felt so much like home.

Driven by an impulse I didn’t understand, I floated down so I was close to Melody, let myself become a little more visible, a bit more defined, and held out my hand.

“I chose you,” I said. “No one else.”

She reached out with a trembling hand and barely managed to set it against mine. Rather than going through as it ought to have, her hand caught in mine, solid. Something rose within me and I pulled against her. She gasped, seeming to grow weaker and paler by the moment. But she continued to hold on to my hand, to stare at me longingly.

“I was special,” she whispered. “Chosen.”

“You are,” I said, for she was.

She breathed again, more shallowly. She was paler than I had ever seen any human, and every breath seemed weaker and weaker. Finally she began to sink downwards. I fell with her, knowing I couldn’t let go of her hand, until she finally collapsed on the sand and breathed no more.

Suddenly I was one with the beach. The fog was me, I was the fog. Corporeality was something forced, something that had no part of my essential nature. This had been taken from me. I could feel everything—every droplet of water in the air, every path through the fog cut by the tourists, even the crashing of the waves against the shore.

I was so much more than any small human form could contain.

“Alice!”

Carmine’s voice. I could feel her running through the fog, calling my name.

No, not my name. Not any longer. I couldn’t feel Alice’s form, could not return to that weak corporeal body even if I wanted to.

Carmine froze when she reached Melody.

“No,” she whispered. “No, this wasn’t … Alice? Alice, what have you done?”

I could feel bitter regret and grief falling off of her, and dimly I knew that I would have cared, perhaps ought to have cared. But all I could think about was that perhaps there was another young woman on the beach looking for me the way Melody had.

Maybe the next one would be more resilient to my attentions. Or maybe she wouldn’t.

Either way, I had to find her.