Don’t haunt the living.
Somewhere Ernest T. Bass impersonators stub their toe on a gilded chair. In pain they cry out to God to explain their fates. And no one learns why. Until it’s too late.
Somewhere a woman haunts a man’s memory with her thick, flaming, bright red hair.
Somewhere a woman cries out to God to kill her as she aches with the gross stench of hatred and vile bitterness.
ASomewhere a jealous, confused, truly lost ghost finds himself too far to the right. Too far to the left. Too far to save. Or too far gone?
Somewhere, we hope, someone smiles…