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April 11, 2007

David: All Ghosts Are Mostly Tragedies

“It’s so cold,” she thought, walking from the hotel, toward the sea. “Dennis! How could you leave?” she moaned. She was vaguely aware that the boardwalk was no longer underfoot, having been destroyed forty years earlier, but it didn’t matter.

She stopped at the seawall, glaring down at the surf. A tear rolled down her cheek and faded away in midair. “Damned ocean!” she cried. “You took my Dennis! I’ll not rest until you return him to me!”

She remembered turning when a voice called to her, so she turned, slipped, fell off the wall, and vanished amid the breakers.

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