Death came fast,

I could barely hear,

The screech of tires,

And screams.

Now I sit in a little room,

There are other kids,

I look around.

Desks are everywhere,

Some kids are slouched,

Others alert and happy.

I guess it depends how long you've been here.

I'm confused as the teacher arrives,

She stands in front of us,

And writes on the chalk board,

Never talking.

The scratching hurts,

My ears are bleeding,

But there is no blood.

My head is ringing,

While I try to figure things out.

We are all dead here, aren't we?

"I thought I would be done with all of this school stuff after college. You can't even use the argument that 'life is a school' since even that has ended!" The pale form in front of me was being quite verbal about being 'sent back', again.

I looked down at my own course schedule for the upcoming year. HUA 101, A Preliminary Guide to Haunting; SCA 203, Scare Tactics to Use on Adults; POL 142, Standards for Poltergeists; GHU 124, How to Mess with Ghost Hunters; and... MAT 101? College Algebra?! Did they really assume that I needed math now that I was dead? Okay, so I had failed all my living math classes, but how much math are the excpecting me to do as a ghost? It's not like I need to know how to find the hypotenuese of a triangle or calculate the difference in speed and height and distance and all that. I'm a ghost now, I can just appear where I choose.

I sighed dramatically and followed the other two ghosts in front of me onto the bus back to Earth. The Ghost School was located in an old castle somewhere in the middle of nowhere Scotland, and it was going to be a long trip. I settled in and resigned myself to another four years of school.

After the chain ratteling workshop,

He just walked, dazed.

He had a window, till fifth.

Counting steps, counting dust.

Others go on in groups.

They internalized the axiom

About all pulling together.

They knew the score,

The world is harsh.

You need wormth,

You need buddies.

But,

You need to be cool to get those.

The PB&W(orm) that he made,

hurridely in the morning,

He ate with little relish,

Charlie brown said it best:

You know that you’re lonely

When the peanut butter

sticks to your pallet.

Oh , existence..

Took out his book,

Read it, bored.

What’s going on with me?

Maybe I should get a pet,

A dust bunny?

A mite or two?

I just can't bring mylef to enjoy

I just can't find comfort in anything.

He haunted, the hallway

For a while more, until the bell.