Otherworld

We have come to see ghosts tonight. Dressed in period costume and holding a lantern, the elderly man leads us into the night. The air is perfect for a walk, warm with the crisp breeze of summer’s death. We stop and listen to stories of the people whose flesh rotten away long ago; they lived and walked in this very city. Here, we are told, is where a woman was pushed by an unseen entity. Push me, touch me, let me know you are here. The dim, flickering light of the lantern creates eerie shadows in the dark tunnel we cross. The night presses in as we listen to the tale of men hung off the side of the cliff. The breeze caresses my skin and I can almost feel the sensation of fingers lightly trailing my bare legs. I step out of the tunnel and feel a tightness in my throat. We all hold hands and say goodbye to the spirits. We ask them to stay; they are not welcome to leave with us. I crawl into bed that night, an invisible noose still tight around my neck.

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