Story about a ghost who lived with me for some time
|I had a ghost who came to stay with me during the night. His name was Steve. Stray ghosts are different than family ghosts and evil spirits. But Steve fell into none of these categories. He was personally sent here by the "psychics" down the street, who had no room for feral ghost, who couldn't decide if he was alive or dead. Some people call this Limbo, but it's a Limbo you live on earth. Steve liked it because he was ready to be alive again, and in denial he died. Or simply could not figure out if this was the place for him, or should move on.''Move on" might mean hell, so he chose the hell he lived in already, and just wanted burned cottage back, and all the animals.
Steve was a mess. I think it was Gregg who pushed down through the ceiling and waited for my reaction. I was applying make up when I saw the outline in white. I knew who he was, but very surprised he'd end up here, in some lady's house to cool his heels. Gregg was on the roof waiting for my reaction. I said, "Steve, you know it's not nice to barge in when a lady is applying her makeup,"
"Sorry," said the very pale man ghost with shots of green going through him."
"You can stay here if you like." I said
'Thank you kindly. . . . Mrs. Goose," said he.
"It looks like you're tied to the earth because of your heart, but you're tired of roaming, right?
"I ain't a roadrunner no more," and he locked his eyes in mine, even as he sat there in ripped up jeans and no shirt, panting, "got anything to get juice on?"
"ok, boss," I complied, "but it isn't whiskey,"
"doesn't matter," and he got up and took my arm to find out what I had. A few chill bottles of chardonnay, I poured him a glass, and he swallowed it n one sip, and asked for more.
"Gregg," I yelled to the roof, "he's fine, he can stay as long as he likes."
I heard a terrible muttering, "oh, f**king great," and a sort of whoosh.
Steve smiled for the first time, "you got to drink too", I poured the last of the wine - but I had 3 chilled bottles left, and we toasted.
"Has your luck run out?" she laughed at him
"Well, I guess you must have known it would someday"
"Be careful not to touch the wall, there's a brand-new coat of paint
I'm glad to see you're still alive, you're lookin' like a saint"
"No Dylan, please Mrs. Goose", and he looked around for some where to crash, after four or five glasses of wine.
"You get the backroom"
"'K, Mrs . Goose, I'ma gonna lie down now, it's been a jolly 'orrible trip. Thank you kindly, Mrs. Goose," He put out his glass for another hit, I poured it, he drank it, and found the coach in the back straight away. The windows were open, and there was a new ceiling fan. It was all so comfortable, he fell right asleep