Excerpt: This Side of Dead

So, let’s start this out in the cliched manner – I’ve always been able to see ghosts. I remember when I was young and playing in my room, my imaginary friends weren’t all that imaginary. Of course I didn’t just see ghosts of children my age. There were adults and teenagers, young men or women from wars past. There were also always some elderly grandmother or grandfather who had left their own children behind and wished to play with another child just for a little longer. Just until they were gone for good.

That’s one of the things that always got me, even back then. They would come and visit me, they would teach me things or tell me stories or, in a few rare cases, scream at me or beg me or try to somehow blame me for their death. But then, after a while, they would leave. All the ones who I considered to be my friends and those who I couldn’t wait to be rid of would simply dissapear one day. It wasn’t until later in my teenage years that I discovered where they went and why they went.