York Yearning
"Ghost tour guide Nneka knows York's haunted history—but the thick Mozambican paranormal investigator who joins her tour is investigating something very much alive."
The paranormal investigator was skeptical.
"I don't believe in ghosts," Joana announced. "I believe in energy."
"Then you'll love the Shambles," Nneka replied. "Very energetic."
"I'm already feeling energy." Her eyes traveled over Nneka's curves. "From you."
The tour wound through medieval streets.
Joana stayed close, asking questions that had nothing to do with history.
"Do you feel things? In these places?"
"Sometimes."
"What do you feel right now?"
"Watched. By you."
"Good."
In a quiet alley off Stonegate, away from other tourists, Joana made her move.
"I'm investigating something," she said. "A phenomenon. You."
"Me?"
"The way you make me feel. It's not explainable." She stepped closer. "Let me gather data."
The data collection was thorough.
Against ancient walls that had seen centuries, they created their own history.
"This is paranormal," Joana gasped.
"This is very normal." Nneka's hands explored those thick curves. "If you do it right."
"Show me right."
York's ghosts watched in silence.
If they existed. If they cared.
What mattered was the living—two thick women finding each other in the oldest streets of England.
"Conclusion?" Nneka asked afterwards.
"Hypothesis confirmed." Joana kissed her. "This phenomenon requires ongoing investigation."
"I agree."
York gained a new legend that night.
Not about ghosts, but about something more enduring.