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My chest tightened at the warmth of her words, and I couldn’t help but smile. Mom always knew how to lift my spirits, even from miles away. The journal was perfect for my new assignment.
“Alright, Remi,” I whispered to myself, running a hand through my hair. “Let’s do this. “
I placed the journal to the right of my keyboard, its presence a constant reminder of my mother’s faith in me. With renewed determination, I turned my attention back to the task at hand, fingers poised above the keyboard, ready to chase after my dreams and make a difference — one story at a time.
I plunged into the depths of the internet, sifting through old articles and social media posts about Ghost Parker and its band members, searching for potential story angles. According to my assignment, I needed to manufacture a ghost that was haunting the band.
The rumor mill started churning years ago when the negative image of a promotional photograph of the band surfaced online, where some eagle-eyed fans claimed to see a ghostly figure looming behind the five musicians. The negative image was from the cover art from their first album, which had been turned into promotional T-shirts for their first big tour. After rumors of the ghost surfaced, sales of merchandise exploded. The band had denied any type of haunting or ghost attached to them, but I was determined to make this non-existent ghost into a global sensation that consumed the world with its captivating story.
“Come on, you elusive specter,” I muttered under my breath, my fingers flying across the keyboard. Let’s find out who you are and why you’re haunting these poor rock stars.
As I delved deeper into each of the lives of the band members, I began uncovering tidbits of information that could be relevant to my assignment. Sidney, the bass player, grew up in foster care, a detail that tugged at my heartstrings but could potentially add an interesting twist to the story.
Ryder, on the other hand, had a cousin that died just before the supposed ghost photograph was taken — now there was a lead worth pursuing. If I could tie the cousin to the band somehow, I could make something work from it.
Bash, the drummer, recently became a father, but strangely, the baby’s mother remained unmentioned in the media. A secret love affair, perhaps? I’d have to track down that information and see where it led. My mind raced with possibilities as I scribbled notes into my new journal.
As for Knox, he dealt with his own tragedy when his fiancée died in a car accident, making her another great choice for a potential spook out for revenge. Besides his fiancée’s death, which was reported locally in Scotland, Knox seemed to keep himself out of the limelight.
And then there was Ghost himself, who had a penchant for minor skirmishes with the law, especially during the time period I was interested in. There wasn’t much information about his private life that was publicly available. I would need to travel to his hometown to uncover some juicy information. If I could find a death tied to Ghost, my story would be that much stronger. He was the lead singer, and he was nicknamed Ghost, after all.
I didn’t find any reported incidents at any of Ghost Parker’s concerts that could be attributed to a ghost. There were no lights crashing down on stage, no major malfunctions, and no flat tires on the tour buses. I planned to interview the road crew and dig up any small incidents I could find. With the use of a little exaggeration, I could make sure our ghost had gotten up to lots of mischief.
I leaned back in my chair, tapping my pen against my chin as I surveyed the information laid out before me. All of these details were exploitable, but I needed to be cautious not to overstep any boundaries. After all, I wanted to win this competition, but not at the expense of my integrity.
“Hey, Remi,” Linda called from the desk next to mine. “Any luck conjuring up that ghost?”
I’d sat next to Linda for years and she’d become a bit of a friend by default. She was nosy and loud but was a terrific journalist. She knew I’d been assigned this story, but per Caroline’s instructions, she knew nothing about the competition between Dawn and me or that Mindy Blakedale was leaving Hollywood Exposé.
“Ha, very funny,” I shot back, rolling my eyes. “But yeah, I’ve got some leads. Just trying to piece it all together.”
“Good luck!” she replied with a hint of sarcasm. “You’re gonna need it for that stinker of a story.”
I sighed, knowing that my competition was fierce and the material I had to work with was flimsy. But there was no time for self-doubt. I needed to focus on creating an intriguing story and proving myself as the top contender for this promotion.
“Alright, ghost,” I said, cracking my knuckles and returning to my research. “Let’s see what other secrets you’re hiding.”
And with that, I dove back into the chaotic world of Ghost Parker and its band members, determined to craft an intriguing story behind the haunting rumors and earn my place as the face of Hollywood Exposé.
After a few hours of research, I glanced down at the notes I’d taken, filling up pages and pages of my new journal, as I attempted to piece together a story that would captivate readers and secure my promotion. But as the intimate details of each band member’s life stared back at me, a gnawing unease began to take root in my chest. The question crept into my mind again: Was it right for me to exploit these people’s lives for the sake of my career?
“Shit,” I mumbled to myself. You’re just doing your job. It’s not like you’re making stuff up out of whole cloth. But even as I tried to reassure myself, I couldn’t shake the feeling that twisting real-life tragedies to fit my ghostly narrative was … wrong somehow.
“Ugh, I need a break,” I sighed, pushing away from my desk and heading toward the breakroom. Maybe a cup of coffee would clear my head and help me figure out how to proceed with my assignment.
As I poured myself a cup of liquid motivation, the door to the breakroom swung open, and in strutted Dawn, looking as smug as ever. My heart sank. Just what I needed: a face-off with my competition.
“Hey, Remi!” she chirped, pouring herself a cup of coffee as well. “How’s that ghost story coming along?”
“Fine, thanks,” I replied curtly, trying to hide my inner turmoil. The last thing I wanted was for her to sense any weakness.
“Really?” she asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically. “You know, you don’t have to pretend with me. We’re all friends here.”
She was definitely not a friend of mine and I had no intention of giving her any ammunition to use against me. “It’s coming along nicely. Better than I expected, actually.”
Dawn’s eyes narrowed as she took a sip of her coffee, studying me like I was an interesting specimen under a microscope. “Is that so? Just how much progress have you made on it? Found any juicy tidbits yet?”
“Actually, yes,” I said, trying my best to sound confident despite the roiling emotions inside me. “I’ve uncovered quite a few interesting facts about the band members’ lives.”
