In the underworld Dracula fights to keep the ghost.
Pity they live in the real world where Dracula lets the ghost just walk away.

the ghost resides in a coffin of her own making
paralyzed like the dead for half a year
the door locked, key thrown away
she tricked herself into solitary isolation, a state of invisibleness
drawing comparisons to the certifiable and undeserving

a protest commences
then rises up to burst out,
and with decisive acceleration, the ghost kicks that fucking coffin wide open.

i said, hey girl with one eye
get your filthy fingers out of my pie
i said, hey girl with one eye
i'll cut your little heart out cause you made me cry

Forgive yourself little ghost, for this is not your failure.
Surrender to it and be free.
Release the hold, succumb.

The pedestal he was placed on was never permanent.
Rise to the occasion.
Or don't.

Everything is sacred.
This ghost is certain.

hummingbird, just let me die,
inside the broken holes of your olive eyes.
i do believe you gave it your best try.

The ghost wants something that won't be under the tree this Christmas (or ever).
Dracula can only be Dracula.
Disappointment shouldn't be a surprise, but it is (of course).
Wrap it up in a bow and take a picture for a remembrance.
This moment is a keepsake.

What you're waiting for isn't here anymore.
It never was.

i've looked at love from both sides now,
from give and take, and still somehow
it's love's illusions i recall.
i really don't know love at all.

The ghost lit the candles on the first of eight nights. Then she burned the fucking house to the ground.

the ghost of you lingers
and leaves
i always think about it

Dracula and the ghost had a date to make a snowman. It was somewhat of a tradition, when there was snow. The ghost arrived early (which wasn’t unusual) and put herself straight to work on their winter project. Fifteen minutes had passed and there was still no Dracula, but there was the start of the makings of a snowman body. She was slightly concerned, but not overly. Dracula was known to be late. Forty-five minutes later, the ghost had accepted that there would be a snowman, but it would be because she made it alone.

Dracula stood her up.

The ghost was baking. It was Christmas and that's what she did. There were already dozens of chocolate chip with walnut and dried cranberry cookies, sugar cookies, peanut butter cookies and pecan balls. The kitchen was perfumed with the scent of warm butter and cinnamon.

She knew that they should be perfect Christmas cookies, warm and sweet, but wouldn’t be.

Because Dracula couldn’t eat them.

Dracula weaves fallacy into a perfect truth
It’s an unlearned art form
She knows the words mean something else
But they taste so delicious, it must be real
Isn’t it?

I always thought that if I held you tightly
You'd always love me like you did back then
Then I fell asleep and the city kept blinking
What was I thinking when I let you back in

She didn't die from a broken heart. She woke up.

The ghost is learning that time is powerful.
This is her dedication to a near decade.

Whenever I'm alone with you
You make me feel like I am home again
Whenever I'm alone with you
You make me feel like I am whole again
However far away
I will always love you
However long I stay
I will always love you
Whatever words I say
I will always love you
I will always love you

The ghost is the collateral damage.
The effects are systemic and wide spreading.
Knock her down and she will rise again.
Adorned in blood, scrapes and bruises.

Although he loathed and detested it, Dracula went Christmas shopping. Undoubtedly every year, he was given thoughtful and generous gifts from his dearest friends. This year he was not going to be the Grinch, even though that was his natural inclination.

For the banshee, he found a lovely cashmere shawl (if she was going to wail and scream, she might as well do it in style). Frankenstein wasn’t getting anything because he was a junkie asshole and would most definitely just sell whatever gift he received for some smack. Dracula did get the Bride a little something since he was sure Frankenstein wouldn’t bother. His choice in gifts were swift and without trepidation, all except for the ghost. Finding the gift that would be just right for her would take a bit more thought and consideration.

He ran through a mental list of all of the material things he could imagine her to ever want and although he was sure of a few, especially one in particular, he just couldn’t make that purchase.

So he bought her a blender instead.

Frankenstein had a relapse and found himself back in rehab. Dracula discovered him passed out in the bathtub at his apartment. His concern grew after a week of calling with no answer or returned messages and he went looking for his troubled friend. (That hide-a-key really did come in handy.)

The bride was finished. She chose herself.
Either way, whether Frankenstein was to be reformed or remain a junkie she would be gone. He lost her and would be alone.

And that made him sad.

the ghost is done.

What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas

Frankenstein convinced Dracula to go on an impromptu midnight trip to Vegas. It went completely against his better judgement, but something mischievous inside granted him permission.

Once they arrived on the strip, without a spoken word they headed for the black jack tables and committed to win some money (not that they needed it, as the world was theirs for the taking). After a few hours, the undead duo amassed a small fortune and eventually the game lost it’s allure.

They cashed out their chips, walked with intense intention toward the casino exit and without skipping a beat, spoke the most glorious words to each other at exactly the same time, “Strip Club.”