Couch to 80K – Week Two – Day Three

I’m doing the “Couch to 80k” – a writing bootcamp from writer and poet Tim Clare. For more information go here:

Exercise Nine
Another free write. Write on any subject. Keep writing for ten minutes.

I don’t believe in ghosts. I don’t believe in an after life. I don’t know what is there when we die but as much as I don’t believe in an after life I also struggle to believe that this is it. I struggle to believe that when we die we just stop existing. I think our bodies stop existing but I just can’t believe that’s it. I’m not saying I believe in higher power, as I don’t, I just really struggle to think there’s nothing else. It’s not that life isn’t enough, because it is, I just don’t know and can’t work out what’s next, and I feel like there should be something next.

And saying I don’t believe in ghosts… well I don’t. But I’ve possibly seen one. Two actually.

My parents house is haunted, apparently. Countless people have heard the noises and experienced what I experience growing. Brad heard the footsteps upstairs and both me and mom saw the man walking past the kitchen window. The man who owned the house before the lady who owned the house when my parents bought it killed himself in the house. He hanged himself over the top of the stairs. He was there for almost a week before he was found. We didn’t know there when my parents bought the house and it was only after we moved in that we found out. A neighbour asked me, a seven year, how I felt about living in a haunted house. Luckily for her things like that have never scared me. This neighbour was clearly frustrated that I wasn’t one bit bothered by her revelation. She was always like that. Proper gossip and proper nosey neighbour. I arranged a surprised party for my parents 40th wedding anniversary and invited her. Walking around greeting everyone she said “I bet you don’t remember me do you?” I hadn’t seen her in thirty-odd years but I knew damn well who she was. “Of course I do Margaret, how could I forget you?!” I said as I walked off. He name was/is Carol. She didn’t look impressed. I didn’t care.

As for the other ghost. Well in 1990 my grandfather died. I was very close to my grandparents, they taught me a lot. Two wonderful accepting people. When he died I was devastated. The night of his funeral I woke up to find him sat on the end of my bed, smiling. “Everything will be okay,” he said. And then he was gone.

Because I don’t believe in ghosts, even with the goings on at my parents house, I choose to believe I was dreaming and grandad never did come to visit. Back then though, it gave me comfort just when I needed it.

Growing up we lived by a church and quite often we’d go and play in the graveyard.

Times up.

Well that didn’t got where I thought it would.

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