I’m not sure if I believe in ghosts. I want to believe in them from what I see on tv and in the movies but it is so unbelievable. My friend and I used to believe that there was a ghost in the neighbor’s house because there would always be a hand that would show up that would cover a candle that was lit in the attic.
Did I ever ask you, back before we got into this whole mess, whether or not you were following me out of some sort of strange sense of self-sacrifice, thinking ‘oh this pitiful thing I have indulged would surely wither away without me’ and so stayed by my side, saying not a word on how you despised keeping your footprints beside mine?
Maybe I did ask you, once upon a time, when this whole thing started out, and maybe I didn’t want to hear the answer.
Still, did you even think to ask me whether I wanted to play your tragic Helen, whether I wanted you to throw yourself into years of exile and metaphorical war for me? Or did you just think I’d be pleased that you thought of me with such objectifying regard.
ghostly, the ghosts who smile in echoes
remembrance of the forgotten
memory reverberated in images
smile turned to frown
thoughts of mortality totality
twisted tritely or trying trivial
lively lifeless abounds
turning rightside ups into
upside-downs
There are no ghosts here. Only memories of the shadows that once were and are no more. Move on, be well, breathe deep and exhale. Around the core of this forms the pearl.
the morphed, the ghouls which dwell inside our memories. Those who have passed on but remain here sometimes in form sometimes in our own minds, they linger. Uneasy air, chilled skin with hair standing tall, the visions we can only see when we focus on something else.
The ghosts of my past come back each time I try to trust someone new. They all left before…why not this one, too? But I’ve seen those Winchester brothers kill ghosts with rock salt and shot guns. What’s the weapon for ghosts who left broken hearts?
I don’t believe in ghosts, its an absurd albeit interesting idea. I wonder why we think they would just be semi-transparent versions of ourselves. As if death would only take opaqueness away from us.
I don’t believe in them, my friend said.
So why are you going as one, I said.
It’s Halloween and it’s just for a lark, she said.
So off we went, walking around in our costumes, she a sheeted ghost, me a ballet dancer.
We didn’t talk much, just watched the kids trick or treating.
Then I looked over at her. A sheeted ghost was hanging over her head in the air.
Slowly it settled on her head, enveloped her in its sheet, and then they both disappeared.
I never saw her again.
So don’t talk to me about ghosts. Ever.
Th ghost in my attic wants to talk to me. I’m scared it’s asking me to look out the window of my two story building and I feel a chill when I look down. I think it’s trying to kill me. I’ve tried talking to it but that’s all it says to go to the window
My friend broke up with her long-time boyfriend and decided to stay in my apartment in Tokyo for 3 months. But she started complaining she could not sleep well in my room because of ghosts… a lady who sits on top of her, a man who speaks to her…. and she made me shut all the windows and curtains which helped!
My friend broke up with her long-time boyfriend decided to stay in my apartment in Tokyo for 3 months. She started complaining she could not sleep in the night because of ghosts… a lady who sits on top of her, a man who speaks to her….
Her fingers pulled at the joystick, her brow furrowing, sparks glittering in her eyes, and she moved her lips to ancient speech that rung in her ears and pulled at her heartstrings. She exhaled slowly.
Eleanor wandered down the dimly lit hallway in a faded blue nightgown, her pale hands shaking and her eyes wide as she glanced around. The inn normally had some visitors over long weekends, when all the tourists came down to the beach town to relax, but, tonight, there was only Sophie, the object of her affections, and her awful boyfriend, who Eleanor hadn’t even bothered to learn the name of, were present this weekend.
Gentle laughter wafted from their room, and Eleanor lingered outside the door, thankful suddenly for the fact that she was utterly invisible to their living eyes as she opened the door. The two of them were sitting atop the unmade bed, watching some movie and eating pizza. Sophie, of course, looked radiant even in her pajamas, an oversized white tank top and pink-and-purple striped lounge pants, and her boyfriend was, well, there. He whispered something in her ear, and she laughed and punched his arm playfully. Then, before he could get another word in, she dropped her slice of pizza and wrapped her arms around him and kissed him, and Eleanor burst into tears. Why? Why would Sophie never love her?
One by one, the ghosts swirled out of their graves and into the Annapolis sky. They lay among the stars, casting a hazy rainbow glow across the city. It was really quite pretty. It was a shame that only Harlie could see them.
The sale price went up when someone mentioned ghosts. They had recently become the fashion trend of a lifetime and everyone was cashing in. Ghosts were everywhere. Unfortunately they just spent their time winging and complaining that all the mortals would leave and they would just be stuck with all the other ghosts forever, with nothing to do and no physical presence to make things happen in the world. The problrm was that people took their ghosts everywhere. They wee inescapable, and ghost cohesion was a difficult task. They didn’t get alongnwith each other very well.
some people are scared of them but in actual fact, it is the ghosts of our own expectations, our own unfulfilled goals, ambitions and desires that are truly the most haunting. I have felt a ghost before, many would not believe me, but it is true. It actually not that scary. Just eerie and a bit irritating. I wonder what being haunted by a malevolent spirit would be like, would it be
some people are scared of them but in actual fact, it is the ghosts of our own expectations, our own unfulfilled goals, ambitions and desires that are truly the most haunting. I have felt a ghost before, many
It’s amazing how so many people are quick to dismiss ghosts. How do you know if they are real or not? Stories of ghosts have been around for millennia, and even during a time of technology, the idea of ghosts STILL fascinate us…
Maybe ghosts are just the memories of those are who no longer here in the flesh. “You only truly die for the final time when someone speaks your name for the last time,” and all of that… Ignore me, I’m just really stoned right now. Excuse me while I get even more stoned… And play EA UFC 2.
ghosts of the same dread that excite the shingles, on your roof, that lay dormant, that fill you with dread, and pause. the same draped feelings that stifle love in your heart, that bring new bars to your reality and give breath to the demons they once embodied.
In the evening
– not the earliest hint of morning as the sun finishes visiting the other half of the world
– nor the way our artificial lights cut through the darkness the sun attempts to abandon us with
No, it’s the evening, just as we leave our chains of routine and schedule, when the night begins to hound and nip at the heels of day, it’s then that we enter into a world unseen.
How many of you believe in ghosts? Perhaps only a handful of the crowd you stand in at the bus stop, or in the line where you wait for your overpriced coffee? Or maybe you find more believers among the skeptics at museums, or in fancy restaurants, or walking along the pier? Maybe, if you believed hard enough, you’d be able to see me, smoking a cigarette I can’t taste and wearing a coat that no longer provides me warmth, perched where the sunset hits the back of the local grocery store.
She shivered and looked to the corners of the room, convinced that something was watching her. He wiggled his eyebrows when she looked back to him. “Scared?”
“No, shut up.”
“Yeah you are.”
“Leave me alone, honestly.”
“I can. But then you’ll be all alone. In this haunted room. With only ghosts as your friend.”
“Mark, stop it!”
You used to be a big part of my life and I thought we’d get on a little longer. Reality hit and time had moved us apart faster then I imagined.
It’s been three years and sometimes it feels as if we’d last seen each other only yesterday. But then I see Pictures of you all and realize, it’s been much, much longer.
You are the ghosts of my past, but of the good kind. sometimes, when I walk past a place we used to hang out, I still see us there. Young and naive with such a cute, but sadly wrong perception of the world. At some point, adulthood had caught up with us.
And we started seeing each other less and less, until we slowly stopped. We parted on good terms, though we never really said goodbye. One day, we just weren’t in contact anymore. but that’s life, I guess.
You never know when it’s going to be the last time.
I’m not sure if I believe in ghosts. I want to believe in them from what I see on tv and in the movies but it is so unbelievable. My friend and I used to believe that there was a ghost in the neighbor’s house because there would always be a hand that would show up that would cover a candle that was lit in the attic.
Did I ever ask you, back before we got into this whole mess, whether or not you were following me out of some sort of strange sense of self-sacrifice, thinking ‘oh this pitiful thing I have indulged would surely wither away without me’ and so stayed by my side, saying not a word on how you despised keeping your footprints beside mine?
Maybe I did ask you, once upon a time, when this whole thing started out, and maybe I didn’t want to hear the answer.
Still, did you even think to ask me whether I wanted to play your tragic Helen, whether I wanted you to throw yourself into years of exile and metaphorical war for me? Or did you just think I’d be pleased that you thought of me with such objectifying regard.
I am not afraid of ghosts.
They are not even real.
Anyways, the scariest ghosts live inside of us.
I am not afraid of ghosts,
or
am I?
ghostly, the ghosts who smile in echoes
remembrance of the forgotten
memory reverberated in images
smile turned to frown
thoughts of mortality totality
twisted tritely or trying trivial
lively lifeless abounds
turning rightside ups into
upside-downs
There are no ghosts here. Only memories of the shadows that once were and are no more. Move on, be well, breathe deep and exhale. Around the core of this forms the pearl.
the morphed, the ghouls which dwell inside our memories. Those who have passed on but remain here sometimes in form sometimes in our own minds, they linger. Uneasy air, chilled skin with hair standing tall, the visions we can only see when we focus on something else.
The ghosts of my past come back each time I try to trust someone new. They all left before…why not this one, too? But I’ve seen those Winchester brothers kill ghosts with rock salt and shot guns. What’s the weapon for ghosts who left broken hearts?
I don’t believe in ghosts, its an absurd albeit interesting idea. I wonder why we think they would just be semi-transparent versions of ourselves. As if death would only take opaqueness away from us.
I don’t believe in them, my friend said.
So why are you going as one, I said.
It’s Halloween and it’s just for a lark, she said.
So off we went, walking around in our costumes, she a sheeted ghost, me a ballet dancer.
We didn’t talk much, just watched the kids trick or treating.
Then I looked over at her. A sheeted ghost was hanging over her head in the air.
Slowly it settled on her head, enveloped her in its sheet, and then they both disappeared.
I never saw her again.
So don’t talk to me about ghosts. Ever.
Boo I heard through the door that’s a lame thing to say to a ghost I thought
Th ghost in my attic wants to talk to me. I’m scared it’s asking me to look out the window of my two story building and I feel a chill when I look down. I think it’s trying to kill me. I’ve tried talking to it but that’s all it says to go to the window
My friend broke up with her long-time boyfriend and decided to stay in my apartment in Tokyo for 3 months. But she started complaining she could not sleep well in my room because of ghosts… a lady who sits on top of her, a man who speaks to her…. and she made me shut all the windows and curtains which helped!
My friend broke up with her long-time boyfriend decided to stay in my apartment in Tokyo for 3 months. She started complaining she could not sleep in the night because of ghosts… a lady who sits on top of her, a man who speaks to her….
Her fingers pulled at the joystick, her brow furrowing, sparks glittering in her eyes, and she moved her lips to ancient speech that rung in her ears and pulled at her heartstrings. She exhaled slowly.
Eleanor wandered down the dimly lit hallway in a faded blue nightgown, her pale hands shaking and her eyes wide as she glanced around. The inn normally had some visitors over long weekends, when all the tourists came down to the beach town to relax, but, tonight, there was only Sophie, the object of her affections, and her awful boyfriend, who Eleanor hadn’t even bothered to learn the name of, were present this weekend.
Gentle laughter wafted from their room, and Eleanor lingered outside the door, thankful suddenly for the fact that she was utterly invisible to their living eyes as she opened the door. The two of them were sitting atop the unmade bed, watching some movie and eating pizza. Sophie, of course, looked radiant even in her pajamas, an oversized white tank top and pink-and-purple striped lounge pants, and her boyfriend was, well, there. He whispered something in her ear, and she laughed and punched his arm playfully. Then, before he could get another word in, she dropped her slice of pizza and wrapped her arms around him and kissed him, and Eleanor burst into tears. Why? Why would Sophie never love her?
One by one, the ghosts swirled out of their graves and into the Annapolis sky. They lay among the stars, casting a hazy rainbow glow across the city. It was really quite pretty. It was a shame that only Harlie could see them.
The sale price went up when someone mentioned ghosts. They had recently become the fashion trend of a lifetime and everyone was cashing in. Ghosts were everywhere. Unfortunately they just spent their time winging and complaining that all the mortals would leave and they would just be stuck with all the other ghosts forever, with nothing to do and no physical presence to make things happen in the world. The problrm was that people took their ghosts everywhere. They wee inescapable, and ghost cohesion was a difficult task. They didn’t get alongnwith each other very well.
some people are scared of them but in actual fact, it is the ghosts of our own expectations, our own unfulfilled goals, ambitions and desires that are truly the most haunting. I have felt a ghost before, many would not believe me, but it is true. It actually not that scary. Just eerie and a bit irritating. I wonder what being haunted by a malevolent spirit would be like, would it be
some people are scared of them but in actual fact, it is the ghosts of our own expectations, our own unfulfilled goals, ambitions and desires that are truly the most haunting. I have felt a ghost before, many
It’s amazing how so many people are quick to dismiss ghosts. How do you know if they are real or not? Stories of ghosts have been around for millennia, and even during a time of technology, the idea of ghosts STILL fascinate us…
on the stairs the door was creaking footsteps could be heard ambidextrous two hands touching the canvas behind walkways and hidden passageways
Maybe ghosts are just the memories of those are who no longer here in the flesh. “You only truly die for the final time when someone speaks your name for the last time,” and all of that… Ignore me, I’m just really stoned right now. Excuse me while I get even more stoned… And play EA UFC 2.
ghosts of the same dread that excite the shingles, on your roof, that lay dormant, that fill you with dread, and pause. the same draped feelings that stifle love in your heart, that bring new bars to your reality and give breath to the demons they once embodied.
In the evening
– not the earliest hint of morning as the sun finishes visiting the other half of the world
– nor the way our artificial lights cut through the darkness the sun attempts to abandon us with
No, it’s the evening, just as we leave our chains of routine and schedule, when the night begins to hound and nip at the heels of day, it’s then that we enter into a world unseen.
How many of you believe in ghosts? Perhaps only a handful of the crowd you stand in at the bus stop, or in the line where you wait for your overpriced coffee? Or maybe you find more believers among the skeptics at museums, or in fancy restaurants, or walking along the pier? Maybe, if you believed hard enough, you’d be able to see me, smoking a cigarette I can’t taste and wearing a coat that no longer provides me warmth, perched where the sunset hits the back of the local grocery store.
She shivered and looked to the corners of the room, convinced that something was watching her. He wiggled his eyebrows when she looked back to him. “Scared?”
“No, shut up.”
“Yeah you are.”
“Leave me alone, honestly.”
“I can. But then you’ll be all alone. In this haunted room. With only ghosts as your friend.”
“Mark, stop it!”
You used to be a big part of my life and I thought we’d get on a little longer. Reality hit and time had moved us apart faster then I imagined.
It’s been three years and sometimes it feels as if we’d last seen each other only yesterday. But then I see Pictures of you all and realize, it’s been much, much longer.
You are the ghosts of my past, but of the good kind. sometimes, when I walk past a place we used to hang out, I still see us there. Young and naive with such a cute, but sadly wrong perception of the world. At some point, adulthood had caught up with us.
And we started seeing each other less and less, until we slowly stopped. We parted on good terms, though we never really said goodbye. One day, we just weren’t in contact anymore. but that’s life, I guess.
You never know when it’s going to be the last time.