I was drowning my sorrows in a mug of ale. I had failed to figure out the ghost situation, and the ghost bartender was kind enough to give me a drink "on the house" as it looked like I'd been pretty run down. And I was. I hate not being able to figure things out, even more so when I'm paid to do exactly that (I hate letting people down, even if it seems I never say that I care, I do care, and letting people down lets me down as a person). The ale was warm and weak, making it taste more like dirty water than a good beer (which is pretty much what I expected from a tourist trap, I also kind of blamed the ghost tender, because well he was a ghost and after failing to figure out what was going on I was blaming them for everything). The bar was otherwise empty, though I had been assured it was because it was nine in the morning and not because no one came to the bar.
"Frustrated?" It was the first thing he said to me after I'd spilled my whole life to him (well the abridged version).
"You have no idea."
"Actually I do, how would you like to have keep doing what you did in life even when you're dead." It was the first time one of the ghosts had actually reacted about being a ghost.
"Wait are you admitting you know you're dead?"
"We all know we are dead Mr. Lorentino, we all know why you are here, I'm just one of the few people who don't necessarily want to remain here and I'm tired, so very tired of keeping up the lie." If a ghost could express weary or any emotion he was doing his best here.
"Wait you all know you're dead?" I admit I'm a bit behind when dealing with most people.
"Yes and we aren't allowed to leave, or even act like we are ghosts."
"What's keeping you here?"
"Sadness." You know normally a one word answer is never enough, but this one time, this one time it was. Of course there was more to this, but I'll get into that next entry, but know this, sadness is a preview for the horrible that is coming.
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