streaming in icy air
gliding on frozen breath
taste an iridescent fog

mid paralysis, the ghost succumbed
swimming against the current she could see herself disappear
melting like snow rendered completely irrelevant, nearly invisible

as the water filled her lungs and drained into her anesthetized heart
she accepted it was impossible to wade the water

thrashing, drowning
she was washing away, filling with regret

she held a whisper
closed her eyes
exhaled

and let go

I'm not your brunch, bitch

The zombie was devouring the ghost. The weight of its dead flesh pressed down and compressed the ghost deep into the ground. She was being consumed in body, but in spirit she still had some fight.

The zombie could rob the tangible (tissue, muscle, bone). It couldn't steal her soul. That belonged to the ghost.

It was her soul (heartless chest cavity)
and
hers
alone

Romeo and Juliet of the Underworld

Once upon a time there was a ghost girl who could fly. Beneath the full moon, she would sprout wings and take flight under the lunar light.

On this particular night, she took a detour through a forest of trees (just for a new view, a different perspective) and lost control from her extreme speed. She crashed into a towering pine tree, saw stars and fell fast and hard.

When she came to, excruciating pain enveloped her winged ghost body. It was a pain she could vaguely remember from her humanly life (that had ended centuries ago). She laid, broken and battered, shocked that that she was bleeding from her silvery feathered wings.

She found the pain strangely nostalgic and a calm came, directly before immense panic. Convinced that she was actually experiencing a slow death (all over again) she devoted her last few moments in an attempt to make peace with the end of her afterlife.

As she slowly exhaled her last few breaths, a rustling in the wooded brush caught her attention. From the dark forest emerged a trotting centaur. Without slowing his pace, he swept up the injured (and bloody) ghost girl and tossed her onto his back.

Overwhelmed by the circumstance she found herself in (half dead again) speeding through the night on the back of the centaur, she was struck with a comforting thought,

“Well, this has never happened before. I think I can die now.”

Sisters of the (office) Afterlife

Two (ghost girl) friends walked down a long hallway towards an exit. As they made idle chit chat about the day they came to the landing of a winding staircase. They glanced down and then back at each other with a fondness expected of friends to share.

As the first ghost girl took a step to descend down the stairs, the other was inexplicably and without reason struck with an urge. She reached her icy cold ghost girl hands out and gave a quick and swift push to the back of her unsuspecting companion.

A warm burning sensation took rise through her undead body as she watched her victim crumple down, down, down the swirling stairs. As the (victim) ghost girl collided with the floor, she raised her eyes and took notice of her dear friend with fear and confusion. A moment passed and her rage slowly melted and transcended into forgiveness. She saw an unfamiliar look of joy and accomplishment wash across her friend’s face, an emotion she had never witnesses before.

A quiet understanding was shared between the two (ghost girl) friends and without speaking, all was immediately forgiven.

Keep smilin’, keep shinin’
Knowin’ you can always count on me, oh, for sure
‘Cause I tell you that’s what friends are for
For good times and for bad times
I’ll be on your side forever more
That’s what friends are for (That’s what friends are for)

dracula awoke in his coffin (built for two). for a moment before he opened his eyes he could feel her next to him. hopeful, he glanced over but was greeted with nothing but darkness. heart(less) broken, a realization chilled. he coped and clung to what was left. the memory of her ghost now occupied his place of slumber. he could almost smell her in the air.

her essence lived in the practice of his (emotional) muscle memory and for now, that would have to be just enough.

the ghost was having a completely shit day. nothing was going her way. all she longed for was a warm bath and a strong drink.

she was just about to give up on the day when a gift appeared; a vision of a desperate, bad Dorothy Hamill hair look-a-like image of her most despised nemesis.

and as luck would have it, the day wasn’t so bad after all.

The lonely ghost made the decision to boycott Halloween. Her heart (empty chest cavity) just wasn’t in it this year. The evening easily could have been booked with several hauntings. Her services were highly in demand. She was avoiding everyone; her voice mail box was full and most likely with work related inquiries.

With a heavy spirit, she glides through the day, trying to fill it with the mundane and menial. Breaking the hours into increments of time and events:

• Nine o’clock to half past ten - frighten small children in the park
• Half past ten to noon - posses the body of an ally cat and terrorize rodents
• Noon to half past three - attempt to nap and watch awful daytime television
• Three o’clock to four o’clock - shop online for shoes and a new comforter for her bed
• Four o’clock to half past six - pick vegetables from her garden and make a salad for dinner
• Six o’clock to seven o’clock - drink an entire bottle of wine, all the while affirming that each glass would be her last (of course until she poured another)
• Seven o’clock and on - drunkenly succumb to depression, cry and pass out on her bed

The next morning she awoke to a thunderous headache. Puddles of tears mixed with yesterday’s makeup stained her pillow and blanket. Disappointed, she paused. Human-like emotion got the best of her, but soon she decided that at least half of the previous day’s online shopping wasn’t in vein. After all, she really needed that new comforter now.

Rationalization, check

lightening cracked across the sky
black to navy
the air whispers, releasing unspoken secrets

turn on the lights please
it’s too quiet in the dark
bright is brave

flip the switch
be strong little girl
inching toward the edge

fly
and
let
go

and I’m not sleeping now
the dark is too hard to beat
and I’m not keeping now
the strength I need to push me

under a cloud cloaked moon
the ghost danced as fast as she could
faster, faster, faster

gliding against the wind
as quickly as it appeared
the movement met a halt

and
without a thought
she decided it was better to scream

to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die

although this wasn’t uncharted territory, dracula found himself in the midst of a love triangle. he had been in this situation before (at least 100 years ago) and knew the trouble he was headed for.

he met the unicorn in his undead youth. he was fascinated with her and they both fell hard and fast. she didn’t mind that he wasn’t technically alive and he was familiar with the supernatural. it was the most innocent and settled he had felt in many centuries. he was content. the unicorn softened dracula’s rough edges. she really knew him. they were at home with the comfort they shared. secretly, they were blissfully happy.

a decade had passed, their love constant and consistent. the same, not entirely ever-changing. dracula felt a restlessness rising. the unicorn felt it too. frightened, she ignored it (or maybe just pretended that she didn’t see it). “this will pass,” she prayed.

dracula started to talk about the new zombie at the office, a lot. the unicorn saw a light in his eyes that once burned only for her. she was supportive, but suspicious. but in reality, the unicorn knew she was fucked.

because everyone knows that zombies can’t resist unicorn flesh and sooner or later, the unicorn would be dinner.

sunday blues

dracula drank some scotch and took a muscle relaxer. he needed some quiet, a small escape. “i’ll pull myself together tomorrow,” he thought.

And just for today, he went away.

the ghost girl is lost without her ghost boy
but realizes that the difference between pain and love is time

Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
I'm needy
Warm me up
And breathe me

The ghost girl was duped by a she-wolf in (really bad second-hand store) sheep's clothing. Take caution ghost boy, that she-wolf sheep runs around with more than one wolf pack.

I'm not calling you a liar, just don't lie to me
I'm not calling you a thief, just don't steal from me
I'm not calling you a ghost, just stop haunting me
And I love you so much, I'm gonna let you kill me