Being Dead (Journal Entry #2)

I danced with her tonight.  All the rum was gone, but she was here.  Her songs were playing and the sad lulls lifted us across the floor.  I could feel her smiling up at me.  I missed her eyes and her hair and her lips and my arms around her.  My hands on her back.  God I missed her.  The music played us out until she left me again.  And I stopped dancing.  I stopped drinking.  There was no more left.  No rum.  No more rum.

I’m a ghost.  Ha ha!  I’m a ghost!  Dancing here with a memory!  I wonder if the neighbors see me?  Am I frightening?  Am I sad?  A wilting apparition to be pitied or something menacing?  I danced with her tonight!  Oh how we danced!  So much that I have to sleep.  I must sleep soon.  I’m so sleepy.  She was so beautiful.  Perfect and graceful.  Vibrant life.  I miss her so much.  What is left of this ghost?  Where is the rum?  I’ll get more.  Then I’ll see her again!  She’ll come back and we’ll dance again.  Maybe longer this time.  Yes!  But first sleep.  Sleep and then rum.  Rum and then sleep.

She was so beautiful.

–Alan Venar


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