The Beginning (Chapter 1)

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My name is James Timothy Jefferson III. I died in 1941, at the age of 16. I was the first to be buried in this cemetery, and I've made a lot of friends, mostly other ghosts, but also some of the children who played in the playground next door. However, I've been quite lonely as of late, because all the other ghosts here have already moved on to the afterlife, and children have stopped coming to the playground due to the rise of technology. I don't understand the appeal of eye pads, I guess they're used to play pirate? Well, whatever they're used for, kids are more interested in playing with those than coming to the park to play. I still see parents with their toddlers, but the parents can't see or hear me, and the toddlers are too young to have a conversation with. I'm starting to wonder if I was meant to just be alone with my thoughts for the rest of eternity, but it just doesn't seem right.

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