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Thursday, November 17, 2011

From "Ghost Daze" by Frank Potterstone

He was only 63, but felt closer to 93. His once long, hippie hair now a cold bluish gray, his skin looked like to old saddle bags that had been left out in the weather, and his knee's were constantly in agonizing pain,do to many years of roofing. John Payne was, by now, little more than a crippled old man.  But believe it or not, there had been a time . . . a long, long time ago. When he was able to navigate a lot easier through his bedroom.

He managed to make it as far as to the bathroom before remembering that the ghost had stolen his meds the day before. For the past three days (or was it four?) John had come to find out, of an mischievous paranormal presence in the house. Not really an evil spirit, really, more of a harmless prankster one — paranormal investigators,call them poltergeists. And it seemed to get a kick out of taking little, unimportant items from him, like nail clippers or twisting all his silk ties into knots, stupid stuff like that. John didn't really have a problem with it in the beginning. In a very strange way, he kinda like the company; all his friends were burn outs, and most of his family died before him. So the mere trace of another presence in the house was oddly comforting, somehow. And if the ghost felt obliged to help itself to his nail clippers, well, knock yourself out. Though honestly, why a ghost would need to use nail clippers is beyond me.

But yesterday...

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