A Ghost Monologue

It’s shocking when the person in your thoughts suddenly appears before you. I know this because I’m doing it to you right now, and you look mortified. How did I know I was in your thoughts? I knew because I know everything now that I’m dead.

And I know that you killed me.

You wanted to for a long time. I saw it in your eyes. You never said anything. I never said anything. It was an unspoken tension between us. We made eye contact and we both just knew.

Wait, don’t run, they’ll notice. Just listen.

I had what you wanted. I get that. I was established, grandfathered into the agency, and you were a fresh face. I was successful, getting hired for photoshoots right and left, but I took the long road to get there. You weren’t interested in that; you wanted the shortcut. But I did everything I could to slow you down. It wasn’t malicious, not always. I wanted you to learn the ropes, avoid the mistakes that I had made. I tried taking you under my wing, but you were never open to being taken under anything.

You thought you had your own wings. I saw you flaunt them more than once. Yes, you had what it took, and you still do. You have the face, the hair, the lips. You have the body, the skin, the walk. But I did too, and I had them first. You needed to pay attention, to learn something, so you wouldn’t trip over your own alleged wings. The frustration you caused me! I watched you step onto a runway with all the confidence in the world and come back looking terrified like you had seen a ghost.

Ha. I guess now, you have.

I tried.

I tried. I tried. I tried.

You wouldn’t let me help.

Oh, you’re worried about the time? I see you glancing up at the clock. You will have to be fashionably late. Those people at that party don’t care about you the way you think they do. You’re a pawn in their game. They’re not really your friends. Sorry to sound so harsh, but you did kill me, so you have experience with harshness.

How did you finally get the courage? Was it something I said that pushed you over the edge? I said a lot of things, and I meant every word. I wonder what the final straw was that made you literally push me over the edge.

No, don’t try to say it was an accident. I see right through that the way you can see right through me now. You pushed me. I didn’t know whose hand it was. I was looking out at the city, over the rooftop ledge. You planted those fingers right into the middle of my back, and then I was falling. Just like that. How did no one see you do it? You must have found the perfect moment, everyone looking a different way.

They all assumed I jumped, that I was unstable, that the pressure was too much, but I was fine. It was you who couldn’t take the heat. What a coward you are. You couldn’t even look me in the eye to do it.

Tears, really? Now that we’re face to face, you’re crying. How many tears did you shed over my death? How much suffering have you endured over the guilt of what you did? My guess is zero. If you’re crying now out of fear, don’t worry, I can’t hurt you. I can’t even touch you. Your skin will remain blemish-less, unlike my skin that you destroyed. If you’re crying from guilt, good. You need to feel something, especially since I can’t feel anything anymore.

This could have gone differently. I hope you see that now. I hope you see that I could have been your mentor, your confidante. Now, you have no one looking out for you. You are weak, and you will shrivel right out of this business. But first, you will fall right into all of the traps. You’ll stop eating, then you’ll be tired, so you’ll try drugs to keep you awake. After that you’ll seduce one of the producers to get into a more prominent position. You’ll want to be seen, so you’ll have bit of surgery and try to reach a precipice that only steadily moves higher. It’s unreachable.

I’ve seen all this before. And this is my last chance to try to stop you before it’s too late. You want to stay in the business, fine. Before you killed me, I imparted enough wisdom on you to help you succeed the right way. I hope you were listening and that you take it and run with it, and I hope you’re grateful, but it’s not for free. You have to do something for me.

A bad man lurks in our agency. You know who I’m talking about. He’s made it this far because he’s powerful, but he doesn’t believe in ghosts. Now, you do believe, so you have the upper hand. We’re going to frame him for my murder.

He was there the night you killed me. He was on the roof. You are going to plant evidence in my house. You’ll type up a letter threatening me. Sign his name and date it a week before my murder. Put it with the rest of the mail on my counter. In the meantime, I am going to haunt him intensely, make him crazy, and force him to turn himself in for a murder he didn’t commit. He will have no choice.

Why would I do this for you, help you get away with murder? Because even though I hate you, and rightfully so, I hate him more. No one alive seems to have the courage to bring him down, but now I’m dead, and I have nothing to lose. This is my destiny. And his fate is sealed.

You took my life, and now I am giving you yours. Obviously, I will haunt you forever if you don’t do this for me. But I feel that won’t be necessary because I can hear your heart pumping fast in anticipation and see your eyes shining with a thirst for revenge. He’ll never be able to hurt you or anyone else again. Let’s go.