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It was nothing but slats of cheap plywood, but maybe…

Huck looked around for something he could use as a tool, but his options were extremely limited in an empty room. He kneeled to inspect the floor a bit closer, and he was delighted to find a small nail left behind from when the windows were all boarded up.

Okay, it wasn’t the best option, but it was better than nothing.

Now he just had to figure out how to pick it up.

Huck extended his index finger and thumb in a pinching motion, doing his very best to grab the head of the nail.

His fingers went right through it.

He tried again, remembering all the weird stuff Precipitation had said about being dead. If Huck didn’t have a body, that meant he didn’t technically have a hand to pick up anything. He had to use his energy like Precipitation had said.

Huck could remember what carving wood was like—the smooth grip of his tools, the smell of freshly shaved wood, and the joy that always came with finishing a project. He had been experienced with all kinds of sculpture mediums like metal and clay, but wood was his favorite. Maybe it was the scent that kept him coming back, fresh and earthy and clean.

The nail twitched.

Huck gasped excitedly, trying to hold the memory of woody smells in his head as he reached for the nail again.

He grabbed it!

He had it!

He’d actually picked up—oh, wait, no, fuck, he dropped it.

Huck groaned loudly, took a deep breath, and went for it again.

Once he had the memory firmly planted in his brain, he was able to raise the nail up with him as he stood. It was a force from deep within him grasping the nail, a whisper of something that eerily reminded him of the thumping head sensation he’d get if he held his breath too long. Fueled by the potent memory, he could focus that weird sensation and hold the nail.

He was glad no one ever came up here because a floating nail would probably be a tad bit alarming.

Huck surveyed the room and then picked out one of the larger slats of plywood to use as his canvas. A nail was hardly an optimal carving tool, but that’s when Huck remembered the art of tin punching.

A design on a thin piece of tin or sometimes copper could be created by punching a nail through to make holes. It was crude but complicated, as the nature of the art did not allow for any mistakes. After all, it was impossible to erase a hole punched through metal.

Very carefully, Huck focused on the nail and pushed it into the plywood. Without a hammer, he couldn’t leave a very deep impression, but he could make this work. He could actually do this, and he was delighted to see a few well-placed holes made a faint line.

He could absolutely do this shit.

It was going to take hours, but he already knew exactly what he was going to draw. Huck poked out a general outline of his subject, and he soon found he could drag the nail to create small lines. Between the dots and lines, he was confident this was going to be a masterpiece.

If only he could stop dropping the fucking nail.

There were thousands upon thousands of tiny pokes and scratches in the wood by the time he was done. He had to take breaks here and there when he either lost the nail or felt tired, but he didn’t give up, and he was damn proud of himself. He wished he had a camera because he had the silliest urge to post this all over social media.

Then Huck remembered he’d been dead for years and that might be weird.

Whatever.

He’d made this for one special person, and that special guy was the only one who needed to see it.

It was getting dark now, and Huck knew that meant it was getting close to time for Mrs. Charles’ evening dinner bell and his date with Grant. For once, it was nice to have lost track of the time because he was working on an art project and not because he was a damn ghost.

He couldn’t wait to show Grant the surprise—not to mention the added surprise of feeling much more confident with manifesting himself physically now.

Absolutely giddy with anticipation, Huck sped downstairs to find Grant.

He was stopped, however, when he nearly ran through Janice in one of the hallways.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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