Tag Archives: ghost

santa’s not real (but you might be)

Wrap me up like a present
And put me away
And when it gets cold, I’ll be yours
Let the bells ring on a fool’s holiday
I swear that I’m more than just
Broken promises…

~*~

i will find you

in wine coolers

and silent carols

and hallmark films

that we both hate

.

your tinsel smirk

in a mistletoe twist

red and green and

stupid clichés on

pink candy cane lips

.

we can stay away

from rude relatives

bland after-dinners

pull the sweater over

our eyes just to hide

.

don’t wake me up

when the fireside’s

snuffed-out, and this

hangover feels like

a feverish nevermind

.

wrap up the year

a humourless cheer

the star fell off the

tree, and the cat stole

half the ornaments

.

but i will find you

in crystal snowdrops

and visiting ghosts

for you’re the childish

wonder that i once lost.

~*~

Decorations can change
Like tinsel and ribbon so
Do not open ’til you’ve got
Forever to spend with me
On a fool’s holiday.

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Filed under Poetry

sadder days

Dirty fingernails, same as your mind
But he can strum the guitar just fine
Every now and then he’d think about his life
Daydreaming just to pass the time…

~*~

today

is one of

those sad days

sadder days

morning grey

feels eclipsed

a ghost in

the window

blocking sunlight

reaching out

impalpable

sadness?

you dream

my darling, of

perhaps life

as you know it

or perhaps

nothing at all

as i pen eulogies

to my name

woe is me, my

dreams have

not been kind

they never were

but i hope

love, that yours

flourishes into

more than

sweet cosmos

and forget-me-nots

and the colour of

lilac i painted

your lips with

a pale afterglow

a subtle adoration

love, pure love

i hope all your

dreams visit you

not only when

you repose

and may they

never fall away

like, i ponder,

all those whose

footsteps have

faded from familiar

halls, missing

from freckles and

constellations

searching

for better days

or bitter days

or both—

they’ll be gone soon

but so will i

and so will you

and so will all

these sad days be

i only wonder

what time brings

for you and me

tomorrow

~*~

Now the sun is closer than it was before
Anyone who’s anyone can feel it
Saturdays are not the same as they used to be
Sadder days, why do they keep on using me?

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Filed under Poetry

Impossible Year: Caramel

(Okay, so I was originally supposed to post a really intense and serious shitty creepypasta-esque story that I wrote about a year back, but since it’s in my computer and it’s being a complete arse that won’t let up, here, have one of the parts from a Panic! At The Disco fic that I’ve been working on for a while now instead. Since all of the past halloweek stuff I posted have been nothing but morbidly dark and really gruesome, we’ll have something stupidly wholesome to end the spooky month instead. Boom, plot twist, happy Halloween fuckers!!! 🎃)

OCTOBER 31ST, HALLOWEEN.

Every house in the block and beyond displayed scary decorations on their front lawn; of plastic skeletons, fake cobwebs, carved pumpkins and other usual novelty spooky items. Squealing kids rounded the streets with their friends and parents, donning various colourful and monstrous costumes as they knocked on doors and yelled a cheerful “trick or treat!”, and teenagers held their own parties and dared each other to do crazy horror-related things that either sent them running away screaming, or laughing, or in most cases, both.

It was a festive night as usual, perhaps even more festive and rowdy than he’d ever witnessed in his entire life, but Jon Walker simply felt like he was getting too old for this shit.

He had just dropped a couple of fun-sized Snickers on the bag of a kid dressed up as a vampire slayer (“points to him for being a notch above cliche,” Jon wanly mused) and was heading back to his living room, a cup of store-bought coffee in one hand and the TV remote in another.

Nursing a headache, Jon tightened his shabby red bathrobe and sipped on his drink, grimacing slightly at the strange taste of…what was it that kids these days called it? Pumpkin spice? Yeah. Whatever the hell that meant.

He groaned as he unceremoniously plopped back down on the couch to continue watching a random B-list horror movie he found on Netflix. As soon as he pressed the play button, the TV immediately died and all the lights in the house flickered off.

“Great, just my luck.” Jon dryly thought, scratching absently at his unkempt beard. “This is so textbook cliche. Next thing you know, I’m going to fetch my flashlight in the kitchen and there’s going to be an axe murderer waiting behind the fridge to hack me into pieces.

Fortunately for him, there wasn’t anything of the sort.

Although, there was a translucent little girl calmly sitting on his kitchen counter, which definitely was not there before.

Jon recoiled back in shock, nearly spilling his lukewarm drink all over himself in the process. He blinked a few times, rubbed his eyes furiously, and determinedly pinched himself on the arm, all before cautiously glancing back at the apparition.

But instead of being gone, the ghostly child was still there, and this time, she was staring straight back at him.

“Oh.” She piped up as she waved softly, making Jon deliriously laugh. “Hullo.”

“Oh yeah no cool, how’s it going? Oh nothing much, just TALKING TO A GODDAMN GHOST.” He rambled on senselessly in reply. The small phantom, however, seemed mostly unfazed by his reaction, probably already used to seeing that sort of thing. She’d seen worse.

“Are you okay, mister?” She asked innocently, stubby legs swinging back and forth and occasionally passing through the closed cabinets. Jon paused for a moment to think about what he was going to do next, and sighed out as he finally decided to give in to the sheer insanity of it all.

“I’m sorry. I overreacted. Let’s start afresh.” He said, clearing his throat extravagantly. “So. What’s your name, kid?”

“…Nic.” The ghost replied hesitantly.

“Nic, sure, yeah, that’s a nice name.” Jon pleasantly appeased. “So. Nic. Why are you haunting my house?”

She blinked a few times before limply shrugging. “…Dunno. I’m bored. And I think I’m supposed to, I guess.”

“That makes sense.” Jon nodded sagely. “Do you like scaring people?”

All he got was the same blink-blink-shrug routine in reply. “Dunno. I guess. I know I’m not very good at it yet.” Nic pouted sourly. “The older ghosts keep telling me to practice some more and if I don’t, some dumb priest or whatever’s gonna send me back to hell or afterlife or something, like they even know if that’s a real thing, they’ve never been. But I just wanna go outside and play with the other scary-looking kids, honestly. I only ever get to do that once a year, and I’m not even allowed to.”

Her eyes began welling up with tears and she turned away stubbornly, trying to hide them from Jon’s view.

Jon had never seen a ghost cry before, least of all a child ghost. For sure, he could definitely check that off his bucket list. Or just throw away the damn thing because for sure at this point, he’d seen it all.

He set down his coffee cup on the counter and carefully approached the quietly-trembling Nic.

“Well, Nic, if you don’t mind, let me tell you a secret.” He began. Nic still had her face buried in her hands and didn’t move even as he spoke to her, but Jon could sense that she was listening intently, so he carried on.

“Here’s the thing I’ve learned. Sometimes, you don’t have to listen to mean old adults. We’re just really cranky and tired from doing a lot of boring stuff. But you’re still a child after all, and you’ve got a lot to learn, and heck, maybe one day you’ll grow to be the best damn scarer in this cul-de-sac and scare those ancient naysayers back to their miserable graves. But hey, if you just wanna mess around, go wild. You won’t get a lot of chances to do that soon, and honestly—what have you got to lose?”

Nic finally rose from her hunched position and was seriously gazing at him now, a wistfully curious look etched on her pallid face.

“They can take you out of the fight, kid, but they can’t take the fight out of you.” Jon concluded with an assuring nod, finding even himself impressed with his whole speech. “Now go out there and trick or treat with all the other youngsters and show those creaky geezers that you’re made of more than goopy ectoplasm and boring boo noises.”

He shone his phone screen down as he fumbled with his ratty robe’s pocket, and managed to fish a piece of hard mint out of it. Secretly picking some lint off the old candy, Jon handed it to Nic.

“Here’s something for a start.” He said with a casual shrug, “I know it’s not much, but…”

But to the ghostly child, it didn’t seem to matter at all; as the bright grin that grew on her face could have lit up the entire house by itself. She excitedly swiped the candy out his hands (“Note to self,” Jon wondered absently, “ghosts can actually eat candy?”) with a shrill laugh and went in straight for an unexpected hug.

Jon shivered madly at Nic’s hold. The sensation was like getting dunked right into a vat of liquid nitrogen. But he tried his best not to show his utter discomfort as he awkwardly patted her on the back, careful not to let his hand completely pass through her.

“That’s, uh, that’s the spirit.” He stammered out with chattering teeth, chuckling at his own pun.

“Thank you, mister!” She gratefully squeaked.

“You’re welcome. Now git outta here kid, yer bothering me.” Jon replied with a playful wink.

Nic simply nodded fervently, visibly filled with a new excited energy. She waved back once again and smiled the biggest smile a ghost could possibly ever have, before finally running on ahead of Jon.

He silently watched the otherworldly child as her glowing ethereal outline passed through the kitchen walls, and faded away into nothing. At that very moment, the lights flickered back on, but Jon didn’t even notice, still deeply lost in his own thoughts.

“Trick or treat!”

A giggling chorus of childish voices outside finally startled Jon out of his trance. Picking up his cold pumpkin spice drink (which didn’t taste so strange anymore) and the half-filled candy bowl, he walked to the doorway, sighed once, smiled the biggest smile a person could possibly ever have, and opened the door.

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Filed under Prose

oblique

you never listen

to a word i say

though i seem to

always fall back

to yours again

.

i try to convince

myself you need

some time to think

caught up in other

better affairs then

.

used to being used

there for disposal

an easy comfort out

speak sweetly and

softly and sensibly

.

my turn comes around

and i talk back to a ghost

out of sight, out of mind

now i wonder—did you

ever really undermine me?

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Filed under Poetry

Dying on the Dashboard

I could only gaze in quiet longing as he crushed the cosmos beneath careful fingers, blushing blossoms reduced to nothing but bleeding pink petals; counting off to another inevitable “loves me not.”

Eyes of dusky skylines. Auburn locks, autumn leaves, idyllic motions. Quivering lips so reddishly fragile, I’m left to wonder if I even dare to bruise them.

I could never hurt you. Would you do the same?

His lithe body gently shifted closer to me, finally closing that small space between us that somehow still felt like millions of miles away to me. Though I am comforted by the steady escaping warmth of our dalliance, the tasteless, tangible absence of his unfazed thoughts left something rather hollow—still left to be selfishly desired.

Tell me, why do you ache?

A pause. An overcast sigh. Wilted cosmos falling from cold palms; bitter, bitter.

“How does someone become a ghost, or a shadow with a smoke ring halo?”

But…I don’t understand. I’m still here, aren’t I?

Aren’t I?

Gold showers of stardust softly rained from above and pirouetted with the tempestuous wind, touching pallid skin, resting on his closed eyelids, and for a moment, he was a perfect constellation—stippled freckles connecting astral whispers connecting interlocked limbs; entangled, unraveled.

“Though I can’t accept the truth, you’re so far away…”

Yet, his lamenting epistle’s final encore—so exquisitely catastrophic—it immediately shattered that ephemeral illusion and left abject phantoms in my nascent chest, constantly haunting me, cruelly suffocating my lungs, callously stealing oxygen and snatching oxytocin; away from me, from you, from us.

“Who am I to ever wake up again, if you’re gone?”

Sunlight falters and fades on the peeling dashboard, scratched with illegible marks and wistfully dressed with our eternal scars. His chagrined eyes—so deeply painted with the darkest shades of midnight—it swallowed up the moon and the stars and the galaxies whole, leaving nothing but lost questions and black holes. My whole world turns into a stunning aurora of roseate silver and palest peach and without meaning to, I accidentally blink.

“I’ll never be the same.”

When I hazily opened my reckless eyes again, he was no longer there.

Were you ever even there?

His lilting dissonant voice still reverberates, through time and space and infinities. But mine forsakes me. Echoes, shadows, sorrows—a scream.

“Let go!”

Now you’re gone…

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Filed under Prose

Occhiata

Rarer still, the crest of tides

The phantom women dance and bide

Where laughter speaks in ocean waves

And cold mindless solitary graves

Midnight shadows fended and staved

.

Quieter still, the fall of tides

The phantom women sleep and hide

Where sorrow cries in ocean waves

And moonlit fields of dreamless naves

Midnight shadows that can’t be saved.

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Filed under Poetry

wraithed

i love how

you think that

you’re okay

because of a

few struggles

against tidal waves

i love how you

feel that you are

what matters most

when all you are

is just another

self-centered ghost.

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Filed under Poetry

Figments

She’s a taciturn ghost

At the back of the room

Speaking in silver poetry

And in dead languages

But no one could hear her

.

She’s a mere phantom

In everyone’s faded mind

Translucent, except for

The scarlet ribbons

Threaded through her veins

.

You can only see her

At the very corner of your eyes

And if you ever briefly turn

Your head to try to find her…

S h e  w a s  n e v e r   t h e r e

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Filed under Poetry

Disoriented

Do I look lonely?
I see the shadows on my face
People have told me
I don’t look the same…

~*~

keep your nerves

at the back of nowhere

leaving tiny traces of

a formaldehyde smile

for everyone to dissect

like it’s the latest kind

of a wrongful death

you’re damned if you do

and a ghost if you don’t

haunting the minds of

puerile, fleeting crowds,

caught in a lightning storm

but never feeling the rain

so sink into it, sink into

everything and nothing all

at once, creeping slow,

wandering skin barely touching

papers strewn across lips

and simply keep your nerves

somewhere no one could

tangle them into knots.

~*~

I’m cutting my mind off
Feels like my heart is going to burst
Alone at a table for two
And I just want to be served…

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Filed under Poetry

Wedding Hells

A quiet hush descends

From the church halls and it wends

And it wends, and it wends

And it bends beyond the bells

Of the bells with their clamour

And the clangour and their fervour

Like the fervour of the crux

Hid in every sacred pews

But the pews with their kneeling

And their ever-silent praying

It grows louder—oh what terror!

Oh, what draconian, pure horror!

For the altar—yes—the altar

Though as empty as can be

‘Tis not as empty as should be

Can you see? Can you see?

Can you see the weeping plea?

Oh, the ever-crying plea

Falling free, calling me—

Calling out beyond the sea

Calling out so helplessly

Begging me, can you see?

Can you see the melancholy—

Of my forgotten bride-to-be?

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Filed under Fixed Poetry, Poetry