Only half-dead. The ghost tried to move out of him, but he wouldn’t let it go. He knew to hold on, to keep the spook, the spectre inside. He couldn’t give up, not yet. He needed one last chance to kill that two-timing bitch who put a poker through his head. He had reason to stay half-alive, good reason. But the ghost was stronger now and death wanted him, was bleeding him out and so, at the moment that his eyelids closed, his lungs froze and his heart stopped on a beat, he decided that a vicious haunting might be a good alternative…

© kym darkly

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