\nby
\nR.P. Nettelhorst<\/center><\/p>\n
\t\u201cKeep that down,\u201d Hadrian said, pointing a crooked finger at the fire in the fire place. \u201cYou\u2019re letting it get too bright.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tDutifully I pushed some of the logs apart, attempting to weaken the flame. Whether there was significant change or not, I\u2019m not sure, but it seemed to ease Hadrian\u2019s mind.<\/p>\n
\tDoes a ghost even have a mind? With no brain, no discernible neurons to be firing or electrical signals to be traced, how could he think? I found it hard to believe he even existed, let alone had consciousness. Like old Scrooge, I thought it more likely he was a bit of undigested potato than a leftover from one of the formerly living.<\/p>\n
\tBut Hadrian didn\u2019t take to my doubts, and I was curious, nevertheless. Very curious about how he came to be in his current state. That was the reason he had agreed to huddle near a fire with me, late that cold winter night near the end of January, the wind whistling eerily around the eaves of the house, the drifts piling up along the north wall.<\/p>\n
\tThe fire popped like a rifle shot; it seemed to energize the spirit of Hadrian.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cI really don\u2019t know how I came to be dead,\u201d said Hadrian sadly. I\u2019d offered him a cup of coffee, but he pointed out that he couldn\u2019t hold one any too well any longer. \u201cI\u2019ve scoured my memory of that night, trying to think what was different, but nothing reveals itself. As far as I can recollect, it was a perfectly ordinary, perfectly normal night at the college. I recall the lecture I gave — a brilliant exposition, really, on the nature of stellar collapse. I traced the life cycles of the various stars, from dwarfs to blue giants. It was just an introductory lecture you know, and I was only painting pictures in words, giving enough to whet appetites so that the next week we could get into the details. The math is really quite extraordinary…\u201d Hadrian paused again, realizing suddenly that he was rambling. <\/p>\n
\t\u201cWhat was I talking about?\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cYou were going to tell me how you came to be here.\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cOh yes.\u201d He looked gloomy, then sighed. \u201cI could sure use a stiff drink right about now. That\u2019s the worst thing about not being alive any more — you still have needs, but you can\u2019t satisfy any of them.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tHe drummed his fingers on the end table; they made no sound, of course. Which raised the question: how was it that I could hear him talk? After all, if the fingers of a ghost drumming on a table were silent, shouldn\u2019t the flapping of his vocal cords against air molecules be just as silent? There was a lot about the nature of ghosts that didn\u2019t make sense.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cAs I was saying, I was teaching my class, and then I finished, and most of the students left; a couple hung around and chatted for awhile. Then I went out to the parking lot, turned on my car, and drove home. I live about five miles from the college. It\u2019s not a bad drive, especially not at night.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cWhen I got home, there were cars in my driveway and in front of my house. I had to park two houses down, it was that bad.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cI grabbed my briefcase…\u201d he lifted it from the floor beside him. I hadn\u2019t asked him about that, and wondered, now, both what might be inside and how he could be carrying it. Hadrian went on with his story:<\/p>\n
\t\u201c\u2018I\u2019m home,\u2019 I announced and strode into my living room. It was packed with friends and family. The lights were down, and they all were very somber. They looked up at me with startled expressions, and I saw not a few jaws drop. My wife gasped and nearly fell out of her seat.<\/p>\n
\t\u201c\u2018What\u2019s going on?\u2019 I asked. \u2018Is this a surprise party or something?\u2019<\/p>\n
\t\u201c\u2018You might say that,\u2019 said Joe. He was a colleague of mine at the college. We\u2019d known each other since we were freshmen. He looked worried — no, not worried — annoyed, or maybe angry.\u201d Hadrian shook his head. \u201cI\u2019m so bad at guessing emotion or describing it.\u201d He sighed, then continued with his story:<\/p>\n
\t\u201cJoe stood up from his chair and approached me, studying my face like it was one of those insects he was always going on about. I took a step back, and then demanded, \u2018What\u2019s going on?\u2019<\/p>\n
\t\u201c\u2018What are you doing here?\u2019 snapped Joe right back at me.<\/p>\n
\t\u201c\u2018I live here.\u2019<\/p>\n
\t\u201c\u2018Not any more you don\u2019t.\u2019<\/p>\n
\t\u201c\u2018What the hell are you talking about?\u2019 I was missing the joke, I was sure.<\/p>\n
\t\u201c\u2018You\u2019re dead,\u2019 he said, point blank, finally.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cI stared at him, then shook my head. \u2018What did I do? Did I offend…\u2019<\/p>\n
\t\u201c\u2018My husband died on Tuesday!\u2019 wailed my wife. \u2018Who or what are you?\u2019<\/p>\n
\t\u201cI stared blankly around the room. These were all my friends, my family, my wife. Yet they acted like they didn\u2019t want me to be there; as if I offended all their sensibilities of right and wrong.<\/p>\n
\t\u201c\u2018I was afraid of something like this,\u2019 commented Joe. \u2018You were always very stubborn, and you never could see the obvious.\u2019<\/p>\n
\t\u201c\u2018I don\u2019t know what you\u2019re talking about…\u2019<\/p>\n
\t\u201c\u2018Only you wouldn\u2019t notice your own death. I used to joke that you\u2019d be late for your own funeral. Now it looks like you\u2019ve missed it entirely!\u2019<\/p>\n
\t\u201cI just stared, dumbfounded. What can you say when you get news like that? I had never imagined learning about my own death this way.<\/p>\n
\t\u201c\u2018There\u2019s only one thing we can do,\u2019 suggested Joe. \u2018We\u2019ve got to conduct an exorcism.\u2019<\/p>\n
\t\u201c\u2018What?\u2019 I babbled.<\/p>\n
\t\u201c\u2018It\u2019s the only way to get rid of you.\u2019<\/p>\n
\t\u201c\u2018I thought you were my friends…\u2019 I looked around the room, and then focused on my wife. \u2018And you…\u2019<\/p>\n
\t\u201c\u2018You\u2019re dead,\u2019 she screamed, shaking a finger in my face. \u2018I don\u2019t want you around anymore. Remember our vows?\u2019<\/p>\n
\t\u201c\u2018I\u2019m a guy…\u2019 I began.<\/p>\n
\t\u201c\u2018Til death do us part.\u2019 She glared at me. \u2018So go away.\u2019<\/p>\n
\t\u201cJoe got everyone to assemble around a card table in the living room. My wife brought a couple of candles in from the kitchen and set them down. Someone else had a lighter and got them lit.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cThen Joe made everyone hold hands. Joe was not a priest; in fact, I had always gotten the impression that he didn\u2019t really believe in God at all. But he closed his eyes and began chanting like it was the most natural thing in the world, and everyone joined in. They wouldn\u2019t look at me anymore, and they were chanting, \u2018Hadrian go away, Hadrian go away.\u2019 And someone had gotten garlic from the refrigerator and was twirling it over his head like a fool. It broke my heart and it was as annoying as hell, and so after fifteen minutes of weird antics I just wandered out of the room. I didn\u2019t even look back.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cI suppose Joe thinks he\u2019s some sort of hero, now. Last I heard, he was making a good second income off of driving out spooks. Like you can really do that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tHadrian looked at me, and I felt somewhat queasy at the notion that there would be no way of ridding myself of this unexpected guest.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cSo where\u2019d you go?\u201d I finally asked. <\/p>\n
\t\u201cI went to Joe\u2019s house and tried trashing it. Didn\u2019t work. I don\u2019t know how the poltergeists do it. They say I\u2019m just not concentrating.\u201d Hadrian shrugged.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cSo what then?\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cHuh? I just wandered around. Being dead\u2019s a lot less interesting than you might think. For awhile, I comforted myself by planning how I\u2019d get even with them when they all died, but after a year or so I realized, hey — if they\u2019re dead, what more can I do to make them feel bad? And besides, there\u2019s that truism about time healing all wounds.\u201d Hadrian sighed with the weight of the world. \u201cYou get over the shock of dying and losing everything, and you\u2019ve got to get on with your life…or death, in this case.\u201d Hadrian chewed his lower lip. \u201cI\u2019ve never been back, there, you know. Some of them may have died by now. God, it\u2019s been over fifty years! But I\u2019m not one to hold a grudge, though I don\u2019t really care to see any of them, either. It\u2019s not like anyone ever tried to look me up. Being dead turns out to be kind of lonely, too. Ghosts are solitary creatures…\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cYour friends, your wife…\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cThey got on with their lives. Even ten years after you\u2019re dead, who really gives a rip about you? Dead people are forgotten.\u201d He stared gloomily at his hands. \u201cThere\u2019s a lot of bitterness in the afterlife, let me tell you. I think that\u2019s what motivates the poltergeists.\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cThey\u2019re just pissed off dead people?\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cYeah — but they get over it.\u201d He paused. \u201cYou know, the teenage years can be rough on anyone.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tI stared, puzzled. But he didn\u2019t clarify. I noticed that the sky was beginning to brighten outside.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cYou\u2019re going to have to go soon, aren\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\tHadrian looked out at where I was staring.<\/p>\n
\t\u201cNo, not really.\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cBut the sun will be up…\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cDo I look like a vampire?\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cBut I thought…\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cEveryone thinks that light will kill ghosts or something. Read my lips: I\u2019m dead<\/em>. D-E-A-D. Understand? You can\u2019t do anything to hurt me.\u201d Then he stretched and yawned. \u201cBut it\u2019s quieter at night, and you can scare people easier then.\u201d He grinned at me. \u201cSo most of us sleep during the day.\u201d<\/p>\n \t\u201cYou have to sleep?\u201d<\/p>\n \t\u201cYou thought \u2018rest in peace\u2019 was just a euphemism?\u201d He chuckled, then stood up. \u201cThanks for the conversation,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019ll see you later; I think I\u2019ll go take a nap.\u201d<\/p>\n \tAnd with that, he was gone; and I was alone. At least for a while.<\/p>\n Who is Hadrian talking to? Where are they? Why is Hadrian talking to this person? I wonder what will happen next? <\/p>\n Here’s a fragment of a short story I’m working on: * * * Dirt Naps Can Be Lonely by R.P. Nettelhorst \u201cKeep that down,\u201d Hadrian said, pointing a crooked finger at the fire in the fire place. \u201cYou\u2019re letting it … Continue reading ![](\"https:\/\/nettelhorst.com\/blog1\/wp-content\/plugins\/send-to-kindle\/media\/white-15.png\")
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