Prompt: Walking in the Woods with a Ghost

     Crunching leaves disturbed the serene surroundings of nightfall, save for the exasperated sigh coming from behind my crunching footfalls and the sound of crickets making music.

    “Am I bothering you? While I walk in the woods all by myself,” I turn to look at absolutely nothing behind me, but I hear a snort. “The least you could do was stop being a chicken and show yourself.”
    It's quiet as I walk a bit more, but a while later, I hear a grunt and grin. 

    “I don’t know about you, but I’m transparent.” A male voice grumbles.

    “Bull, I see right through you.” Another snort is when I start to see the outlines of the voice coming into slow, foggy focus. 
    The hazy body of a sarcastic ghost appears, hands in pockets. He stooped slightly forward, looking down at the moss before looking back up at me. He used to be a handsome living man, but one day, he just didn’t wake up, even though he says he woke up dead.

    Well, he woke up dead and attached to me. 

    “Your ghost puns are shit.” He deadpans.
    “Dying in your sleep is shit.” I flip him off as he breezes right through me, causing chill bumps to spread up my legs, arms, and even up the back of my neck. “Ugh! Why do you always do that to me?”
    “It gets a rise out of you.”

    “Until death, do your puns never part,” I trail behind his foggy form as he leads us further into the wilds of Ungoverned Wildwood, Georgia, “What are you out and about for tonight?”

    “I thought you had better plans than I did. I’d date, but everyone refuses to see me.” He slows, and I come to stride across the dark trail barely visible from the overhang above. “So, what are we doing?”

    “I think I found a cult.” I grin at him, lifting my camera and wiggling it.

    “You found a cult,” he nods slowly, “and you're photographing them?”
    “Nah, I’m photographing the abandoned recreation building they left behind because it’s creepy, and I’m pretty sure something fishy went down there. I feel it in my bones.”
    “That’s probably arthritis since you’re still alive, and you might want to get that checked out.”     t’s my turn to snort as I push some brush away before we come to stand on the side skirts of an open area where a very dark and ominous building is laid out.
    “And you couldn’t do this during the daytime because?”

    “Getting arrested isn’t part of my vacation plan, what? Are you scared?”

    “Of what? I am literally so dead. Nothing matters except for how dead I am.” He brushes off imaginary lint from his shirt as I unscrew my lens cap and slide it into my back pocket.
    “Well, do you want to see if the ghost hunters are full of it by trying to capture you on film?”

    “And put people out of their spiritual misery? Absolutely.”