For March Kaitlyn Morgan

For March

Skillet, skin, and intense.

Life Sucks, Wear a Helmet.

             Dying was definitely not the way I planned on starting out the day. Especially since it happened when a freakin’ skillet fell off my cabinet and onto my head. What a wonderful way to die. I could already see the head lines:

 “Death By Skillet:

Why Clumsy People Shouldn’t Cook.”

            Embarrassing right? Right. Especially since that ended up being really close to the actual headline. How do I know all of this if I am dead you ask? Well, because now I am a freakin’ ghost. Just my luck, isn’t it? I have some unfinished business and things tend to get pretty intense around here if you die with things left to do. Only one problem with the whole “unfinished business” bit. I don’t know what it could be.

Thus began my seemingly endless journey.

By the fourth or fifth month I was still no closer to figuring out my unfinished business. I only knew what the date was if someone conveniently left the newspaper laying out on the first page. You see, as a ghost, I couldn’t touch anything, or anyone, for that matter. Every time I tried I just ended up with an intense tingling all over my skin. Funny that I should still feel that, since I’m dead and all.

I was pretty sure that I was never going to figure it out when one day he literally walked right into me. He didn’t keep walking like all the others had, but stopped and looked right at me. His gorgeous hazel eyes widened in surprise and wonder, but not with the fear I expected.

As the weeks went by we learned that we could communicate. We became friends fast and fell in love even faster. Then one day I started to feel extremely light and I knew I was moving on. When he came home I was barely visible. He cried out and begged me not to go. But I couldn’t stay no matter how hard I tried. I told him I loved him, closed my eyes, and drifted off.

The next thing I knew I was opening my eyes to the sights of a hospital room. I quickly looked around and realized that I was not in my own body. Apparently I wasn’t supposed to die the day that I did, so they gave me a body of someone else whose time had come. Lucky for me she had no close friends or family to speak of.

After a long time, or so it seemed, I was finally discharged from the hospital, my new body and me. After all the hassle and paper work I was off to find my man. It took a little convincing but he finally believed I was who I said I was. We married a few months later and now are doing just fine and dandy.



About Jim Hilton

Just having a good time writing about our little adventures.
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