Röyksopp “The Fear”
I love me some spooks. Ever since I first watched Halloween at the tender age of ten and watched Michael Myers playing peek-a-boo with PJ Soles from beneath that white sheet, I’ve been fascinated by these spirits from another realm. Admittedly, there was nothing otherworldly about The Shape wrapped in bed linen but he did look mighty fetching and, moreover, scared me senseless. That is what ultimately ghosts are good at, prising us out of our skins, and ensuring that we sleep with one eye firmly open. In my forty-one years I have never been fortunate enough to clock one of these ghouls but I do live in hope. However, increasingly of late, I have resembled something of an apparition myself and feel it only right to elaborate further on my ghostly endeavors.
Recently my life span round on a sixpence. It is not the first time this has happened although this time good fortune was on my side and, suddenly, I became the master of my own destiny for the first time since 2013. For two years I was a spook and you would think that would change the moment my liberty was returned to me. However, I have never professed to be your average Joe and, instead of coming out all guns blazing, I momentarily vaporized. It has been two months since I have had anything like a presence on social networks and it may seem like I have thrown in the towel but this is entirely inaccurate. Instead, I have been in a period of severe readjustment, and have needed time to find myself again. I’ve still been writing whenever is feasibly possible and have released a few pieces of literature just to remind you that I’m still here. But I haven’t exactly been a social butterfly. More of a timid moth.
The good thing about moths is that they are attracted to light sources. Sure they usually end up exploding on impact after veering too close for comfort but you can always bank on them getting curious once the halogens are glowing. After a protracted period in the shadows, I have been seduced by the light once more and plan on flapping my little wings as fast as they can carry me back to the land of illumination. I understand that feelings may have been hurt by my extended leave of absence but I promise you that it has never been an intentional snub on my part. For the past two years, the Grueheads are the only thing that has kept me topside, and I’m forever grateful for the love and support that has been offered during that time. I also fully understand why folk may have grown increasingly frustrated with me of late as I often frustrate myself at times. Just know that my intentions are always honorable.
I miss you all more than you know. Sure I have still been active but it’s one thing interacting on a one-way basis and another entirely sharing regular banter with those who really get you. By cutting myself off from my network of friends and loved ones, I become a ghost. In my defence, I have spent the time wisely, floating around girls’ locker rooms surreptitiously, and copping an eyeful of soapy skin wherever possible. You know me by now, I’m not the kind of spirit that gets his kicks from terrifying children or causing the elderly to suffer cardiac arrests. I’m a friendly ghost just like Casper, albeit without the bulbous head and much less of a wuss. Why go around harming when I could just as easily be charming? I’ll leave the evil to some other sucker and just carry on being a well-mannered pervert.
Anyhoots, enough about me, let’s talk a little about ghosts shall we? That is why we’re here after all. Do they exist? I’m fairly assured that the answer to that is a resounding yes, despite having absolutely no evidence to support my claim. Strange unexplained occurences are something of which I have extensive experience. I may not have actually seen a ghost per se but I do believe they have been present on a number of occasions throughout my lifetime. For some, they are ever-present, and I wish I shared this extra-sensory perception but, alas, no dice. It’s not for lack of trying either and I purposely leave my closet door open at night to coerce these slippery swines out of their hiding spots. Dagnabbit, one day I will catch one out and, when I do, I fully intend on savoring the experience and reporting my findings straight back to you.
Ultimately we are all going to die. It’s a depressing truth but one which, sooner or later, we are bound to accept. What happens next is the subject of many a thesis but nobody knows for sure how things play out once our souls vacate their mortal receptacles. Speculate all you want but you’ll just end up clutching at straws. It’s one of life’s many little mysteries and, in a world where everything is tidily labelled, I take comfort in the knowledge that some things just aren’t meant to be fully understood. Imagination is a wonderful thing and we create our own theories every time we fire up those glorious neurons. I truly believe that my father is present whenever I scribe and this helps me with the void that was left when he departed so suddenly into the other realm. Call it a coping mechanism but I truly feel his presence, regardless or not of whether or not I can grab myself a conclusive snapshot.
My father always wanted a grandson to carry on the family name and, considering I have three older sisters, I presented the only opportunity of this ever happening. Sadly he passed before that became a reality but I do believe he pulled some strings in making it so. Twelve weeks through his mother’s term, we were told that my son had been miscarried and this rocked us both to our very foundations. However, something happened which I can not fully explain and six months later, my dear pops got his wish and Jacob Nathaniel Stevens was born. His middle name was chosen on account of him being a gift from God when, in truth, I believe that he was ushered through conception by his grandfather. I also know that he is mighty proud of his little cherub and that he watches over him every step of his journey from an unseen vantage. I much prefer this philosophy to attempting to rationalize as we so often do. Some things are simply better off unexplained.
So what about those malignant spirits? I’m equally assured that they’re out there, impish little sprites that they are. Good luck to them I say. If they want recognition that badly then you can’t blame them for making a nuisance of themselves. Each to their own. At the end of the day, they’re the ones who have to carry around rattling chains everywhere they go. Whether friendly or otherwise, it takes all sorts. I shall continue to leave my closet door ajar each time I settle down in my slumber hammock in the hope that paranormal activity will one day come a knocking. Until I have anything concrete to report, I’ll just keep on believing. Apparently that increases the odds of a bona fide sighting occurring.
As for my own ethereal tendencies, I think it is time to step out of the shadows and make myself known once again. Look out for a dude in a white sheet although I won’t be wearing bifocals like Myers. And the next time you take a shower, should you get that unmistakable feeling that you are being watched, then I’m afraid that it is guilty as charged. Make sure you wash in all the nooks and crannies as I will be taking notes. Can ghosts masturbate? I hope so as I don’t want to waste my ghost hours trying to throttle my junk in vain. Ghost or no ghost, that is too terrifying a thought to contemplate.
I go creeping each night in vain search of a fright
It may never work but who knows it just might
Leave your closet wide open and I’ll leave you a token
Nothing scary I don’t wish to see your will broken
Should you need a warm shower at a very late hour
Then I may just run short of my ghostly willpower
Should you feel a cold chill that’s just part of the deal
It’s the only true way of me proving I’m real
I may look quite gaunt as I hover and haunt
But I mean you no harm and I pledge not to taunt
Don’t think me a kook I’m a loveable spook
I’ll leave you some residue to prove it’s no fluke
As your head hits the hay at the end of the day
This sweet apparition won’t be far away
No need to feel wary I’m not all that scary
I could look in the mirror and I don’t think I’d scare me
I think it is best if I just let you rest
as I don’t wish to be seen as some sort of pest
If you call the Ghostbusters it’ll just get me flustered
As there’s no way this spook is about to get busted