A Close Encounter With a Lighthearted Ghost Child
A true spooktacular tale
Shadows on the wall
Noises down the hall
Life doesn’t frighten me at all
Life doesn’t frighten me at all
Not at all
Not at all.
Life doesn’t frighten me at all.~ Maya Angelou, And still I rise
I lie still as a vacant corpse in preparation on my back, eyes shut tight, teeth clenched with double sheets and duvet pulled up to my neck, afraid to budge — hoping I was dreaming. My mind fully awake, listening.
“Every shut eye ain’t sleep,” my grandmother used to say.
I couldn’t blanket the room’s chill, no matter how high I turned up the heat before going to bed. For some odd reason, I placed the desk chair under the doorknob. So quiet, you could hear a rat piss on cotton. Was I the only guest in the hotel?
Long gone are the days when I traveled for work — excuse me while I blow a thankful kiss to the sky with both hands. Although my convention sales trips weren’t all drudgery. After business hours ushered in the most fun — networking on steroids. The idea of meeting strangers I would never see again was comforting.
