I belong to a local writer’s group that meets twice a month.  I was not at the last meeting in October and just saw the “homework” that was generated at the meeting.  Not having much time, I wrote something that doesn’t quite fit the request.  The request was to write a short story of 500 to 1500 words that ends in “And the ghost slowly faded through the wall.”

Here is my entry:


The night I died

I almost cried

It seemed so sad to see

But then I found

Once in the ground

It wasn’t bad “To be

Or not to be” alive in life

With all the strife

That filled my days with pain

And tears that fell,

As streams from Hell,

That turned the sun to rain

So now I rest

And try my best

To scare the living with a laugh

Those beings who

Are living through

A life that’s filled with chaff

Nightly is my time to roam

I startle them with slightest moan

Then tell myself a joke to bring my smile

Followed by laughing loud revealing

In them that so loathsome feeling

That life may end in just another mile

For what is life but fear of death

That near is the day you’ll lose your breath

And freshened air will never once return

Life rushes by

And with your eye

You see your end, a lonely clay-like urn

But urn or grave

You’re not a slave

To fear of death and rot

You’re free at last

To have a blast

Scaring those whose death is not

“Perchance to dream”

Just may not seem

So bad once you have left

Along a path that has no sound,

Ensconced or underground,

Where you’ll find you finally have no heft

And for that very reason

You’ve reached that very season

Where your matter doesn’t matter much at all

The living will surely feel the fear

Of having one like you so near

And say the moment you disappear,

“Thank God that ghost has faded through the wall!”

Art Davenport, 2014