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Post 1453. Saturday 18 February

Sunday Scribblings 2

Why do we get such a bad press? We didn’t choose to become ghosts. One minute we were people and the next, a sort of weightless vapour. I thought I was dreaming so I tried pinching myself, but there was nothing to pinch. Now, when I get an itch I can‘t scratch it! See, it’s not all fun.

In life, I never believed in ghosts, although I was a little alarmed when some glasses flew off a shelf soon after I took over my pub. ‘That’s John again’ the locals said. John was my predecessor and he died just before he was due to retire. They said he still considered it to be his pub, and he didn't like the changes I’d made. I laughed it off. The funny thing is, we are best mates now! 

I float back there sometimes. The new landlord refuses to believe in ghosts, although he has actually seen me without realising it. One evening I hovered over Ginger Dick’s head. Dick sometimes has a sneaky cigarette despite the smoking ban in pubs, but on the night in question, he was completely innocent. The landlord yelled at him to put his cigarette out! He said he could see a cloud of smoke above Dick’s head!

It’s frustrating that not many people see us. No matter how loudly we rattle and bang, very few hear us. There are several people I would love to scare the pants off, but I haven't managed to attract their attention.

Even we ghosts get scared sometimes. I’m terrified of extractor fans. You can get sucked in one side, and blown out the other at a hell of a rate of knots! It happened to me yesterday and I lost a bit of myself. I found it eventually but it was very frightening.

If you can read this, you must be a believer. It’s been good to see you. I just hope you’ve seen me!

For Sunday Scribblings 2 where the prompt word is Pinch

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