5/12/25
I love ghosts. Ghost stories, ghost movies, ghost shows. I wouldn’t say I’m obsessed. I’ve never googled “ghost” to learn more about them. Never read a book on the history of ghosts. I see them and I say “wow I love that.” I named my son Casper for goodness sake. I love the meme “I’ll find you in every life (threatening)”. I love haunted houses and joking about all the things I collect and thrift stores and estate sales being haunted. These are my credentials.
Where does a man go? A man who’s never been particularly religious or grounded in any way. He’s never owned a home. Well maybe once but long ago. He doesn’t have any commitments or anything tying him down. A Peter Pan of sorts. A Lost Boy. He would have loved to haunt something. Just like me. I wished he did. I suppose the place he died he could haunt but that place doesn’t really feel like him. That would be torture for this man. Of course this leads me to think about everyone who has ever died in car accident, hospital, or on a rollercoaster. I would haunt the shit out of a rollercoaster but that’s just me. I’m not sure what the afterlife entails but I very much hope to get to be a ghost for just a little while. Before finding peace of course. I love finding peace almost as much as I love ghosts. Theoretically. Those poor ghosts who have to live in a hospital must be so sad. How could you find peace?
Perhaps the man latched onto something nearby and he could haunt that. An item I would never find. He’s holding onto it and he’s cursing as the years go by and no one has picked up the damn doll sitting near the bed. Great, now he’s a doll. Ugh. Maybe the man would enjoy that. Being a porcelain doll in a room where no one has been since he died. A room where his daughters played and his mother took extra care to make beautiful and pink. The Angel Room.
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