Um . . . Random things I write

Necrography 1

  Okay, first of all, this is not a biography. Okay? This isn't a story about my life, where I grew up and who my first girlfriend was. This isn't a story about my life, but one about my death.

  Or, to be more specific, what happened after I died. So, it's more of an Anti-biography. Or a Non-biography. An Unbiography? Whatever, the name isn't important. What is important, is how I died. I feel that would be as good a place as any.

  Okay, so I was just minding my P's and Q's, walking down a particularly sunny street on one Autumn morning, when I died. It was a huge shock to me. And also, unsurprisingly, incredibly painful. Now, you're probably wondering how I died.

  That's good, because I am also.

  Yeah yeah, I know what you're going to say. "How do you not know how you died?"

  What? Just because I'm dead do you expect the secrets of the universe to open up to me? No, not at all. I mean, maybe if I was properly dead, then I would know how I died. However, I'm not really dead.

  Well, my heart stopped, my brain ceased to work and I was, medically speaking, dead but if I was dead then how could I be writing this, hey? No, I'm a ghost. Yep, Spirit of the Undead, Ectoplasmic Being, Haunter of Houses, all of that. Although I haven't done any haunting yet. I don't know why, but I'm a ghost.

  Alright, so I was confused for a couple of days, you know, as your average ghost usually is, wondering what the hell was going on. I mean, I had gone from eating and sleeping and, you know, being noticed by those who are living, to having none of those things. It can be emotionally tragic.

  So, I had been a ghost for a week, and was already hating being a ghost. Boy, did Danny Phantom have it wrong. So far, I hadn't even seen a single ghost, and since nobody else could see me, it made my conversations pretty stale. So far, I didn't have any of those cool ghost powers that people talk about. The other day I was just walking down the street when I got hit by a car. A goddamn car! And it hurt. So much.

  "Oh, how did it feel?"

  It felt like getting hit by a hulking piece of metal going at sixty miles and hour, thank you for asking.

  Then, get this, another car drove over me! It was excruciating. It hurt exactly like it would have if I was alive, except that I was dead, so it wouldn't stop hurting.

  Two more cars drove over me before I managed to get off the road.

  Although, I guess an advantage to being dead is that I heal quick. Like, in an hour I was just fine, even after getting hit by FOUR cars.

  Yeah, so being a ghost sucks.

It was only the today that I heard of a haunted house, that lives on the top of the hill of this small town I live in. Or, died in. Whatever.

  So, if everybody's telling the truth and this house really is haunted, then maybe I can ask that ghost why I'm dead, and how to, um, stop being dead. Yeah, that's what I'm going to do. But only tomorrow. For now, I am going to stop writing before my wrist cramps up and try to fall asleep.

  Again.