I could hardly believe that the WordPress prompt for today was “ghost”. You see, ghost is MY word.
The word, ghost, and I have a past relationship. This word, ghost, is ME. As a little girl, I remember: my dad is not far away, sitting in the brightly-lit living room of our matchbox-size house, right outside their bedroom. I am in their bedroom with my mother. It is dark. I see a figure. It is not my mother. It is not me. It is large. It is rather translucent, almost fog-like. It does not appear to be trying to approach or frighten me, but I scream anyway. I do not know this being. I run out of the room to my father who catches and holds me. My mother laughs and tells me that I am silly. This is THE memory that has haunted me throughout my entire life. Continue reading “My Ghost Doesn’t Live in a Ghost Town”