They say ghosts are not real, but what I've seen begs to differ. They've come from beyond death, tormented by their past lives. Shadows, remnants of time, they collapse all around him. Coming for their vengeance, they've come to claim another. Knuckle deep inside his eye sockets. Knees scrape his throat like the screams of a miscarriage. He becomes him, he ages 200 years. Blood runs cold, bursts out his empty eyes. Go. Life taken by violence. A bullet to the head. As the smoke had settled, his body hit the floor. Forcing his mind to live his life, to die his death, to host his soul. Open your eyes. Say something.
