Ghost Stories 4: I Found My Jennifer Love-Hewitt



Well, I was murdered all right. But as big as that is, it didn’t come as a surprise. Somewhere in my floating synapses, I knew it. I ‘remembered’ it, even though I still can’t bring any of those memories into view.

How I was murdered was a little more of surprise. But surprise is not really an adequate word. Surprise makes you think of people jumping out from behind sofas to shout “Happy Birthday” as the lights come on — not that that has ever happen to me either. But it’s a mild word. A fun word. A sensation that jolts but quickly passes. This was more of a vibrating shudder into my bones — or my memory of bones — and I’m still humming with it. With the knowledge of my own death, and the frustration at not knowing why. Or who. None of that is any clearer.

But there may be new light shining on that… Continue reading

Ghost Stories 3: Mr Whiskers


I’m standing on the street just outside my house.

I checked the calendar this morning and by my best calculations, I’ve been dead for nine days. Yesterday my mum got the phone call about my body. And I smashed the phone. I haven’t explored that too much more yet. I don’t know what to do with it.

Last night my dad got home and my parents lay in silence in bed, just waiting for morning. We were all waiting for morning.

Because this morning they are going to identify my body.

And I do and I don’t want to go with them. Continue reading

Ghost Stories 2: Hokey Pokey


I can move things.

I don’t have a physical presence as a ghost. I’ve realised this and confirmed it several times, even excluding the time my mum walked straight through me. Let’s not think to hard about that, okay. But once I started to come to terms with the fact that I actually am a ghost — and as far as I can tell, it’s permanent — I thought I should start testing out the parameters of my new existence.

So begins the Ghostly Experiments.

Experiment one. Hypothesis: If I lack a physical presence, then I can pass through solid matter.

So I had a little experience telling me that this was probably true. But even then, approaching a closed door with the purpose of passing through it still brings a bit of trepidation. Firstly, because it wasn’t exactly a pleasant sensation the first time. And secondly, because I have no idea of the rules of this. What if I break down into individual molecules and don’t come back together, or mingle with the molecules of the wood and remain forever embedded in my bedroom door?

So, I started with a hand. Well, a finger actually. Continue reading

Ghost Stories 1: I Think I’m Dead

I didn’t even know I was dead until yesterday.

Now I’m not quite sure how long I’ve been dead for.


It can’t be longer than a week. I was definitely in a cafe a week ago, ordering a coffee. And drinking a coffee, so I must have been alive. Ghosts can’t drink coffee, right? I don’t know really know the rules. Before yesterday, I didn’t even believe there were such things as ghosts. I’m still not even sure, but it’s getting harder to be a sceptic as it seems… I am one. A ghost. I’m not sure there’s any other explanation.

Unless my entire family is playing an elaborate practical joke on me. But they’re not the practical joking sort, and besides, we’ve never communicated well enough with each other to pull something off requiring that level of co-ordination. And my little sister could definitely not keep a straight face this long.

That’s why for maybe a whole week, I’ve been a ghost and not even noticed. That’s not an unusual amount of time for me to go without speaking to my family anyway, even though we live in the same house. It’s a big house. And I’m a 19-year-old guy living with his parents and 8 & 10-year-old siblings. It’s not uncommon for my mum to refer to me as the Zombie even when I am around them.

But I’m pretty sure I’m not a zombie. My mum wouldn’t have walked straight through me if I was — I’d still have a corporeal presence as a zombie, right? I don’t know all that much about them either. Continue reading