by Joy Ralph
My new glasses aren’t right. I clean and clean them and still I see things that ain’t there. Ain’t supposed to be there, surely not.
I don’t care there’s no such thing as ghosts. I didn’t say I saw any ghost. You never listen to half of what I say and it about drives me to drink.
I didn’t mean that. I’ve been dry for almost a year now, and plan to keep it so. I told you I was sorry, and I meant it. I don’t ever plan to drink again, and you know why.
No, you can’t smell my breath, and NO I am not seeing things ‘cause I fell off the wagon! Damn it, sis. I don’t want to get angry, here. Let’s not fight.
No, I didn’t. How could I start something with nothing? Oh, it’s some white thing that hovers and fades. Lace curtain-y looking. In the marsh, down by where you died. I thought it might be you at first, but there was nothing there.
See, that’s why I said I don’t believe in ghosts. You’re dead but you still won’t leave me be. Nothing’s changed. Ghosts are remnants! You’re still the hateful same. Cold, scolding, I can’t do nothing right. Not even murder, yes I know!
I wish I HAD thought twice. I should have known you wouldn’t leave. I wish you were the whole way died, a proper corpse and gone. I’d fix it if I could. Yes, kill you for good!
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