Portly, bearded Professor Geist holds forth to a class of twenty. The clock on the wall registers 8:40 a.m.   Lance sits in the front row, his eager face aglow.  Despite the early hour, he wears a coat and tie, in contrast to the half-dressed look of most of the groggy students.  Cute Amy, in a sweater and skirt, sits near Lance. She too is alert. 
        In answer to a question, Geist intones, “Life beyond the grave?  Certainly.  Look around you.  Everything that is comes from past life.  A tree.  You yourself.  Life begins in decay.”
        Beside himself, Lance blurts out, “You’re talking biology!  But what about the survival of psychic force?”
        “Ah, yes.  The eternal question—the question of eternity... But we’re not here to talk about the Undead.”  
        “The supernatural, then.  This is a class in religion.”
        “I see.  You equate religion with the afterlife—with personal immortality.”
        “Well, it is part of it, isn’t it?”
        “The Biblical Hebrews had no such belief.  Nor do the Hindus.”
        No longer able to contain herself, Amy gets involved.  “What about reincarnation?” 
        “But the goal of both Hinduism and Buddhism is Nirvana,” says the professor.  “The cessation of desire—and of personality.”
    
The bell rings but Geist continues, “Since you seem so interested, next time we’ll take up the development of the Pharisaic belief in resurrection.”  He drops his books in his briefcase, snaps it shut, and strides out. 
        Students amble after him. Amy and Lance linger.  Amy says, “Wow!  I can hardly wait!”
        Lance acknowledges her sarcasm.  “Does the study of religion have to be this scholarly?”
        “Dull, you mean.  Anyway, what were you expecting, a séance?”
        Lance raises his eyebrows. 
        “You’re kidding?” Amy says, responding to his look.
        “Well, why shouldn’t we?  We could try.  Maybe work it up for a class report.”
        Amy’s eyes brighten.  She too sees the possibilities.
    
Lance and Amy stroll across campus.  Lance wonders aloud, “But who’d we summon?  The whole point of a séance is to reach someone who’s dead, isn’t it?”
        “Well, there’s my Aunt Hildy.  My parents have always wondered why she didn’t leave them any money.”
        They chuckle. 
        “I’d rather summon a generous spirit.”
        “Tell ya what!  C’mon over.  My roommate’s a psychic.  She’ll have some ideas.”
        “A psychic?  You’re kidding!  You mean, like, reading Tarot cards?”
        “She’s a clairvoyant.  Claire, the clairvoyant!”
        “This I gotta see.  You mean, right now?”
        “You don’t have to.”
        “I know... but I want to.”
    
Chubby Claire, wearing a bathrobe, her hair up in rollers, seethes as Amy and Lance enter.  “I’m so glad I dressed for company.  Otherwise, I might have been caught unaware—or in my underwear.”
        Lance tries to pretend he’s somewhere else.
        Amy tries to placate Claire.  “Sorry Claire.  This is Lance.  Maybe you’ll forgive me when you hear what we have to say.  It’s about a séance.”
        “I think I’d rather be mad... Who taught your religion class, by the way?”  
        “I told you about that putz, Geist, didn’t I?  Why do you ask?”  
        “You guys didn’t go to Religion, right?  Is there something I should know about?”  
        “I swear we were both in class. Am I gonna get some support here, Lance?”  
        “Yeah, I mean, we were both there.  What’s the problem, anyway?”
        Claire lets out a sigh of exasperation.  “The problem is, Geist is dead!  He was killed last night in an automobile accident!”
    
Lance and Amy are stunned.  Amy recovers first, recognition dawning.
        “Look, Claire, I know you’ve got a gift.  And I know you can see things.  But no matter how clearly you think you saw Professor Geist getting killed in a car crash—”
        Claire picks up a newspaper and hands it to Amy.  Amy stares uncomprehendingly at it then sits on the bed.
        “Ohmygod!”  She shudders and covers her face.  Lance takes the paper from her.  He sits and slowly reads:
        “Last night about 10:30, Doctor Albert Geist, Professor of Religious Studies at Sunnyvale University, was fatally injured when his car leaped the median strip on Tyndale Boulevard.  Police speculate that Geist lost control of his car while heading east.  Doctor Geist apparently died instantly.  The paramedics’ efforts to revive him proved futile...”
        Claire looks smug, but sits down beside Amy, who sobs uncontrollably.  “It’s okay, Amy.  We’ll get to the bottom of this.”  She turns to Lance.  “Now do you mind telling me where you two really were?  I promise I’ll never tell.”
    
Claire, Amy, and Lance sit nursing coffee in the Kampus Korner snack shop. Lance’s tie hangs loose.  Claire munches on a doughnut.  The three of them look grim.  Lance says in a flat voice, “There were twenty students there.  They all saw him.”
        “Okay, okay.  I believe you.”
        Amy slowly shakes her head.  “This is so weird.”
        Lance nods, but says, “It’s beyond weird. It’s—”
        Claire disagrees.  “Not really.  The dead need recognition too.”
        Amy offers a rueful smile.  “I think we’ve already had our séance.”
        “I believe you, but no one else will,” Claire says.  “Even if all twenty students swear on a stack of bibles.”
        Lance reflects a moment.  “You know what’s funny?  Geist’s lecture—it concentrated on the denial of an afterlife.  So how does this play—a guy comes back from the dead to tell us there’s no afterlife?  That makes no sense.”
        Amy’s eyes grow wide.  “Wait!  I bet—I bet he didn’t know he was dead!”
        Claire nods, but Lance just looks at her. “Huh?”
        “Yeah, sure!” Amy says.   “Like Bruce Willis in the Sixth Sense.  It’s like Geist didn’t come back, he just never left.  Force of habit, like.”
        Lance shakes his head.  “That’s crazy.”
        But Claire agrees with Amy.  “Maybe not.  Psychic force is very, very strong.”
        They drink their coffee, not looking at each other.
       “So what do we do now?” Amy says as if she were talking to herself.

        Lance shrugs.  “What can we do?”
        Claire smiles. “Remind me why you guys came to see me.”
         Amy looks at Claire.  “The séance!”
        Lance is dubious.  “You’re kidding!”
        But Amy simply asks, “When?”
        “In Geist’s office.  Where else?”
        “But how do we get in?” Claire takes out a credit card and holds it up.  The others nod.
    
That night, standing in front of Geist’s office, Lance tentatively tries the knob.  “Won’t hurt to try—”
        The door opens and Lance springs back.  “Jesus!”
        “It’s like we were expected,” Amy says in wonderment.
        Lance turns to her. “Don’t say that!”
        But Claire says it’s a good sign.  She enters.  Amy follows, and Lance scoots in behind them.  Claire closes the door.  The office is now lit only by light filtering in through the opaque glass panel in the door.
        Lance sits in Geist’s chair, and intones a la Geist: “That last paper of yours on reincarnation, Amy—pure bunk!”
        Amy ignores the act.  “Aren’t we forgetting why we’re here?”
    
Amy and Claire pull up two chairs.  Claire is businesslike. “Okay, let’s get on with it.”  She takes Amy’s hand in her left hand, and Lance’s in her right.
        A little spooked, Lance tries to lighten the situation: “We forgot the Ouija board!”  But Claire shushes him.
        She closes her eyes and takes three deep breaths.  Amy closes her eyes.  Lance studies them both. 
        Claire throws back her head.  A wind blows through the office, scattering papers.  Amy and Lance jump up, then sit down and look at Claire.  A moment later, a voice resembling Geist’s, but in a deeper register, emanates from Claire.  Amy and Lance jump again.
        “Scared you, didn’t I?”
        Amy quavers, “Is that you, Professor?”
        The voice lets out a shriek.  Amy and Lance do their jump.
        Exasperated, Claire remonstrates, “Stop with the games, Professor!  Where are you?”
    
An apparition appears, a ghostly figure in armor.  The voice is still deeper.  “I could a tale unfold lightest word/Would freeze thy young blood/Make thy two eyes start from their spheres...”
        Claire sneers, “Hamlet.  You’re playing with us, aren’t you, Professor?”
        Suddenly, Amy throws back her head.  The voice now emanates from her.  “It is you who play with me.”
        Claire reminds him, “You’re dead, you know.”
        The voice is not disembodied, but free-floating.  “That’s unkind.  The most unkindest cut of all.”
        Now it is Amy who remonstrates: “Is that all you can do—quote literature?”
        “I’m a teacher.  Truth is in the texts.”
        Finally, Lance pipes up.  “Did you hear what Claire said?  You are dead.”
        “It takes some getting used to.”
        “No more practical jokes, like what you did this morning?” Lance asks.
        “It’s no fun being dead.  So why not let me have a moment of enjoyment.  Don’t worry, I’ll gradually fade away.”
        “Doctor Geist,” Lance says, his curiosity provoked.  “How did you pull off that act this morning?”
        “I have no idea.  But I think I’ll become like the wind.  Maybe blow the hat off some old prof’s head... or blow some girl’s skirt up a little.”  He chuckles.
        “Professor!” Amy says, indignant.
        “Oh, I imagine that desire will desert me in time, too.”
        Lance scowls with impatience.  “You’re not telling us what we want to know.”
        “How can I?  When I don’t know myself?”
        “But your being here demonstrates spiritual survival.”
        “I’m afraid not.  Only that life is a hard habit to break… But now I must leave.”  The voice fades.  “Adieu. Adieu!  Remember me!”
        A gentle wind blows, just lifting the corners of the papers on the desk.  The students release their hands and shake their heads.  Lance says, “A ham to the end!”
    
A warm September day.  Amy and Lance sit on the grass, soaking up the last rays of summer.  Lance wears a polo shirt.  Both are in shorts.  Lance says, “We’re no wiser than we were before.”
        “Geist doesn’t seem to know either,” Amy replies.
        “I bet he’s feeling his way toward the Other Side.”
        “The Other Side?  You mean, like, Heaven?”
        “Whatever...What do you suppose he meant by ‘Truth is in the texts’? The Bible?  The Koran?  The Upanishads?  Anyway, I think truth is in experience.”
        “But don’t the texts broaden our experience?  Anyway, I think the new religion teacher’s an improvement.”
        “Why?  Just because she looks like Catherine Zeta-Jones?”
        “I just hope she’s a careful driver.  Anyway, her legs are not as nice as yours.”
        Amy smiles.  “Lance!  You’re as bad as Geist!”
        “Yeah, but I’m alive.”
    
They intertwine hands.  As they do, a pretty girl passes by.  A breeze springs up, raising her skirt tantalizingly.
        Wide-eyed, Amy looks at Lance.
    
  
                       About the Author
     
        Retired from teaching English at Villanova University, John Mark Green, Jr. (who also writes under the pen name, Johnny Dorsey), is an older guy living in Sarasota, Florida, with Marilyn, his wife of thirty-plus years.  Besides reading and writing, the pair enjoy biking, boating, and swimming.
        John Green’s work has appeared or will be forthcoming in numerous small press publications, including Midnight Showcase, Clean Sheets, Espresso Fiction, and Apollo’s Lyre.  His novella, How I Made a Vampire Movie, written under the pen name Johnny Dorsey, is now available in print from Eternal Press.  Demon, another novella written under the pen name, Johnny Dorsey, was accepted in February 2009 by Ruthie’s Club.
        “Séance,” first appeared in DemonMinds in October 2008 and as a reprint in SNM Horror in March 2009.  A short screenplay version of the story was optioned by WordWeaver Productions, and almost produced—twice   
    
   
                                            Copyright © John Green