“His bark is worse than his bite.”
Treebeard, Lord of The Rings* #quote
Why are sunglasses made of suns? Anyway onto the flash fiction!
The Old Ghost
Hello happily alive dolt. Enjoy it while it lasts. If you're lucky
you'll move on and won't become a ghost like me. I'll introduce
myself, but I don't really remember. To ghosts the name you had when
you were a fleshbag doesn't really matter to much. Being in our state
is much easier to deal with by letting go of the old days. Now my
fellow undead call me Steam since I look a heavy, thick steam. On
days I have nothing too interesting to think about sometimes I wonder
if you living folk would see me the same if your mundane eyes could
perceive ghosts.
Ah, the reason I contacted you. Well besides to tell you your lucky
to be still breathing I do have another reason. Turn down the noise.
All of it. Ghosts get more energy by being around more people but now
cities have only gotten more noisy. Going out to the countryside and
suffering with less energy for less peace is still noisy.
We reach an impasse. Ghosts feed of happiness. You used technology
to make yourself happy. Make food more plentiful. The noise isn't
simply just the grinding of gears or the whirring of a fan. So much
art and music. From paintings in art galleries, pounding music in art
galleries, to graffiti.
I'm old. I yearn for the day when people were happy just because
they had ignorance of other joy. Now I have to deal with your all
this noise in your consciousness. The other, younger ghosts are
adapting. I'm millions of years old. Go backwards for me. Even the
poorer nations in this modern world are starting to know happiness
and an expanded consciousness beyond the primal joy of just getting
to the next day.
Though if you must live in a kind of happiness that I cannot feed
on, you'd better enjoy it. An understanding of it may determine
whether or not you move on.
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