Goodbye Ghost

by ~Rummelhart

The ghost girl came with us when we moved.

At least we'd see the sad, half-realized shadow of her arm, beckoning down the long dark hall way from the back bedroom. Or see a shadow of her in a corner.

She wasn't crying or knocking any more. She seemed safe.

Then our old brown tabby cat, Lina, began to finally fail. At sixteen years old, with a big tumor growing next to her heart for the last three years, it was time.

Her full name was Kali Javelina Shitbird. She had been living in the back bathroom, demanding everybody recognize it was her room. Now she moved into the smaller front bath. That was her room now. She lay comfortably on the bath rug. She stopped eating or drinking, but looked very pleased. She was going to run her own death. She took pets and talk, but it was her death, and she'd take care of it her own way, thank you very much.

The little ghost girl showed up once or twice. And then a voice began. An older woman, outside Lina's new bathroom, said, around 7:00 am every morning, "Hi, kitty." Or, "Aren't you a pretty kitty?" The smell of lavender drifted in with the voice.

Finally Lina faded away. She began her last evening on my lap.

Lina loved horror movies. We discovered that years before, when I was out of town, and Nearest couldn't watch a cheesy slash or chainsaw video he'd taken out of the library. He let it run while he went in to stack the dishes in the kitchen.  He came back into the living room to find Lina perched on the coffee table, leaning forward, gleefully following every drop of blood that splattered across the screen. He left it run for her, and went off to do more housework. She seemed so disappointed he put it back in for her, but spent the rest of the evening reading in the bedroom, while she chirped at the gore as though she were watching birds.

This last night, she was so weak and thin she was draped across my knee, sound asleep, happy. On the video of Lost there was some horror moment. Lina's little head wavered up at the first yell. She watched, pleased, and when it was over, she faded back down on my knee.

Later that night, she was lying like a melted cat on the warm couch. I put my hand on her body and felt her heart slow... slow... and stop.

Nearest can see Them. They always say goodbye to him. A week later, Lina ran down the hallway, looked at Nearest, and disappeared.

The next day, the ghost girl, the old woman, and Lina were all gone.

Maybe we can't go alone. Maybe we need an animal to go with and vouch for us. Maybe a child needs a hand to hold. Maybe a grown-up needs to protect one more frightened on the journey. Whatever happens, they seem to like company on the way.

If anything dies around you, listen for voices and watch for shadows. Maybe they're booking a flight.