Phantom’s Wake

plane of existence, after all. The spirit separated from the body - the soul, if you will - is not bound by the rules of space, of time, of dimension. I can, and do, go where and when I want. I see who and what I want to see. I don't "haunt" people, I have no desire to do that. What I do want, though, is to remember the things that I once did: ride a bicycle, go swimming in the Channel, peel an orange. Or, most of all, after a long self-imposed delay, take a small bite of a chocolate bar and feel it melt on my tongue, savoring the warm spread of sweetness through me. 

That is gone now. There is no chocolate here, no oranges. I don't haunt people, but I suppose I do haunt the atoms and molecules left behind by the things I loved doing, the places I loved being. It's not always possible, I admit; sometimes I get frustrated that I can't just reach out and touch the linen tablecloth, or turn the page of the book when the fool whose shoulder I'm reading over hasn't caught up to me yet. Yes, I've broken a mirror or two; yes, I've knocked over a lantern. There are times when all the things I'm not able to do and feel and sense anymore are too much.

Sometimes, not every time, but sometimes the children see me, where I go. I try not to frighten them, I stay in the background or linger in the reflection on a silver-backed comb. Bright moonlight I hate most of all, it brings me out into sharp focus, something I never would have supposed, had I thought of it while I was alive. On moonless nights, I play dolls with the adventuresome ones. In the mornings, they will tell their nannies, I played with the pale girl last night, Nana.

Everything is cold and grey. This is, I have been told - in this life and the one before - eternity. The never-ending of time. I have to laugh when I hear that; everything has an end. Even something so monolithic as time. Surely, nothing can go on Forever. And as I said, I can go anywhere, anytime. The past is the present is the past. I've gone far, far back but I don't like it. I usually stay close to my own time, when I was. 

When you first realize what you are here, you think perhaps it is the end, or the beginning. You might think, dear me I'd give my life for a bite of chocolate and not think it funny until years later. The first time I saw myself in a mirror, I froze, as though I was still alive and seeing a ghost, instead of being one. I lifted my hand, distended my face, tried to scare myself; but all I saw was a thing of gossamer beauty, a girl of moonlight, only in a different