Member-only story
Real Ghosts Don’t Ghost
As a ghost, I’m tired of this dating term “ghosting.” It offends all actual ghosts. Personally, I’m proud to haunt you wherever you are. Following you around while you go about your daily tasks, knocking cups off the table to remind you of my presence, and making distant noises in my ghoulish voice while you try to sleep.
Real ghosts don’t go around cutting contact without explanation. We obsessively try to make contact. Appearing before your anxious pets, emitting foul odors around your loved ones, and possessing your phone to beg the police to investigate our mysterious deaths.
I spend most of my time floating as a spooky spirit, bound to this haunted swamp until someone returns me to my proper resting place. Or until they shut down the Strange Encounters Swamp Tour which keeps cruising over my mangled body and disturbing my peace.
We don’t suddenly become “too busy” to text you back. If you tried out the ouija board that you passed in the occult store, I would reply immediately: “End the pain. I am trapped; find my body please.” Also, “Richard is cheating on you with your neighbor Jean.”
There’s no “caspering” with us. Friendly ghosts don’t exist! There are only tortured, desperate ones like myself. I will only say goodbye when you find my mangled body. My body, by the way, is at the bottom of a swamp in Florida, from when…
