Ghosts Anonymous

You'll Get Used To It Eventually

EVP Session Transcript

Stephens, Gunner - Age 18 at departure

Dr. Patrick

Me: Gunner, I'm very glad you've decided to join me today. I believe I'll be able to aid in your healing process.

Gunner: I don't have anything better to do.

Me: Well, I assure you you're making good use of your time. Let's start at the top then. Tell me a little bit about how you died.

- - - 

"It's a crappy way to die, huh?"

The man speaking to me was a slightly transparent figure in orange bell bottoms, hovering an inch above the ground. He gave me a cautious smile. I eyed him for a moment, disoriented. The word "ghost" hung on the tip of my tongue, along with another question I couldn't bring myself to ask.

"I know it's a lot to take in," he continued.

The wail of a police siren drew my attention away from the individual at my side. A young policeman pulled up to the curb. I foggily regarded the officer as he exited the vehicle to greet his partner.

"What a mess," the policeman commented in disgust. "I hate train accidents." His voice was warbled, like I was underwater.

His partner nodded, "It's a real bloodbath."

"What happened?" I called to them, but received no response. "Hey!" The officers didn't even glance up. "Can't you hear me?!"

"They can't hear you," my bell bottom-clad companion said.

I wouldn't listen to him. "Bloodbath," I repeated.

"Look," the man gestured to the scene behind me, and I reluctantly turned to look.

The train tracks were plastered with blood. Its source was a crumpled body lying on the sidewalk of the train station, disfigured nearly beyond recognition. The corpse's bloodied arm bore a cracked Rolex and a sweater sleeve displaying the Washington State logo. Only then did I realize the victim of the accident.

"Am I... dead?" I asked the man in bell bottoms.

"Well judging on how your body parts are all over the place, I'd certainly say so."

I looked at him in shock.

"Sorry," he apologized. "Being dead for forty-something years makes you kind of insensitive. I relate though. I was in your place once. That train hit me in 1976. Groovy year, bad day. Blood everywhere, my limbs every which way... Sorry, still not helping. I'm Ken, by the way. I haunt the train station sometimes." He held out a semi-opaque hand and I shook with my similarly translucent one.

"So we're..."

"Ghosts, spirits, apparitions? Yup. It's not too bad. Think of it has a new beginning. You'll get used to it eventually."

"No, I can't die. I have so many things I have to do. I was gonna be-"

"Stop. Thinking about that only makes it worse. Think about the things you can still do. I've made a great life for myself haunting this train station, making people who think they're alone hear stuff. It's fun."

"Shut up. That's not what I want. Shut up."

"I understand. If you need to talk, I'll be here."

His nonchalance angered me. "Why don't you just leave? Why do you want to stay here where you died?"

"I could if I wanted to. I guess the place just kind of grew on me."

I couldn't understand. I wouldn't understand. I stormed away from Ken and watched from afar as policemen stood over the bloody disaster. It's the end, I thought. It's the beginning of my end.