Before I could talk to the dead, I lived in existential fear. I think we all do. We go through life on some level wondering: is this all that is?
Once I began seeing and speaking to the dead, I finally knew part of us lived past death, but now I feared the dead. They were everywhere, grasping, wanting, hungry. They hounded me, I feared they’d drive me mad.
Now I control my gift, and I’m at peace. I speak to the dead, but when I wish, on my own terms. I’m content, not afraid.
Truly, I’m a happy medium.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Talking to the Dead
Labels: 100 words, Drabble, Ghost, Ghost Whisperer, Medium, Short story
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