Ghosts on the Stereo - JATP - Carrie + OC

The Story of How I Died

tw // death , gore

Okay, so I'm dead. I feel like I should start this off by saying that just so we're all on the same page. I'm dead, see ya later, sayonara, 6 feet under. But don't feel bad for me, I've been dead for a long time, definitely longer than you've been alive. And if it hasn't been longer, then why the hell are you reading a book about teens? That's kinda gross. And before you ask, yes, I've been dead for a while, and yes, I'm a teen. You know what? I think I should explain.

I was born in 1917. Wild, am I right? There's a whole movie with that year as the title now. Sorry about the scattered thoughts, you'll get used to it. Anyways, back on track. I grew up in LA, and that's where I've been my entire life and afterlife. I grew up pretty normal, besides the whole "being born during a war" thing, but that was the normal. As a kid, my dad was a manager at a grocery store, and my mom stayed home with us kids. I had 7 siblings, and I was one of the middle ones, so no one really paid much attention to me. Well, until they had to. If you've taken any kind of history class, you would know that the economy went to shit in 1929. The roaring 20s ended real fast. My dad lost his job, and all my siblings and I had to go find jobs. What kind of jobs you may ask? The kind that makes your minimum wage at McDonald's seem like a dream. Most of my siblings found odd jobs, working for richer people when they needed something done. But the family mostly relied on me because I was the only one with guaranteed work. Less than a year after my dad lost his job, I finally found one as a mechanic. Well, not really a "mechanic." I had smaller hands than all the actual mechanics, so my job was to fix all the little problems in machines when they didn't work anymore. Not to brag, but I was pretty damn good at it, and it kept my family in our house, so I couldn't really complain. It was better than most people had it.

I worked that job for about two years, fixing all the small problems in the machines. I sort of began to enjoy it, seeing how the different parts all worked together. I'm pragmatic in that sense of it all. But then that fateful day came. Most people remember the date and time they died, but I never paid attention to that kind of stuff, so I have no idea. I go into the factory, and it's a normal day until it happened. Now, I won't go into detail, because Willie always tells me not to because it can be "scarring," but let's just say, something got caught in a gear, there was a spin, there was a snap, there was a scream, and lights out. Sorry to everyone that read the title of this and expected some big story of war and gore. People are babies in 2020. Anyways, that was the day my family found out why there was always a big line of people ready for my job. Apparently, I lasted the longest out of the people who worked it, so good for me, I guess.

Now, we fast forward to 2018. As you can imagine, I missed a lot of shit in those years. But that's beside the point. I appear back in the factory, well what used to be the factory. It's actually a supermarket now. I think it was a Giant, but, as you can imagine, I was freaked out, so I really didn't pay much attention to where I was. So, I ran around like a chicken with my head cut off (that joke would be funnier if I got to go into detail earlier) for like 3 days, trying to figure out where the hell I was. That's when I found the Hollywood Ghost Club and met Caleb Covington. Yes, the Caleb Covington. I'm not quite sure why I emphasized it. You probably don't know who he is, unless you're crazy obsessed with Hollywood ghost stories, Buzzfeed Unsolved, or your dad was also from the 20s in LA and obsessed with magic acts, which I'm guessing they weren't. My dad was convinced that Covington's death was the reason that the economy went to hell, but I'm pretty sure he was the only one that thought that. Well, he was the only person I could recognize, so I decided to tag along with him. That was a shitty idea. Let me tell you something for future reference kids: if a sketchy-looking ghost guy wants to shake your hand and give you a "membership stamp," don't let him. Trust me, it happens more often than you'd think.

So, now I'm under the control of a guy who couldn't even complete his own trick. Honestly, that's the part that stings the most. I'm a hostess at his stupid club for rich lifers, and, coming from the 30's, I fucking hate rich people. But it's not all horrible. He doesn't let me out much anymore, since I've tried to run away so many times, but at least I have people to hang out with, well person. His name is Willie, and he's not the sorriest excuse for a friend I could have. He's teaching me how to skateboard, and he steals electronics for me, so I can take them apart and learn how they work. It's a fun way to pass the time. If I think about it, Willie's pretty cool, but if you tell him I said that I'll kick your ass. And you can't even fight back because I'm a ghost. Too bad, so sad. Anyways, I had kinda settled for the fact that I was going to be stuck in that club forever, and it wasn't the worst thing to me. But, if you've ever read a book or seen a movie, you know the story won't end like that or that would be a really shitty story.