What if ghosts didn’t wander the earth, howling in haunted houses and looking in on the living with sad gray eyes? What if these restless souls were trapped where their bodies fell, hopelessly attached to their remains?
A murder victim sprawls inside a dumpster, waiting for anyone to find her, unable to escape the stench, unable to kick away the rats that feed upon what was once her flesh. She can remember what the bites might feel like. If she could cry, she would.
Amelia Earhart, the passengers on the Titanic, once-proud pirates—they bob on the ocean floor, shifting slightly with the current. Their lungs are eternally filled with water, a constant suffocation, though they cannot die again.
The cremated cannot scream when they are burned along with their bodies, nor can they say goodbye when their souls, ground down into millions of ashes, are scattered by the breeze.
Hope you enjoyed it, Leets!
Yesterday we had writing group. It was a good one. Very productive. Lots of editing to do.