ghost left behind

“You’re obsessed with the fantasies of the young,” she replied with my friend’s breath. “Though I must admit that that the ironic reversal of our current state is simply delicious.”
And without a hesitation or any change in the tone of her voice, she put a bullet into the back of my head.
The pain was infinitely brief and indescribable, a massive spike of agony that felt as if it should have sent me flying. I saw a cloud of something fly forward and then splatter all over one of the wolves and the nearest Big Hood. Ectoplasm, I realized dully. My physical body had been destroyed. It had fallen back into the spirit matter from which I’d formed it.
The pain faded, and then I was back in the still, neutral absence of sensation of the ghost state. I reached for the splattered matter with an instinctive, unspoken yearning to return to it.
I could barely see my hand.
I tried to turn around, but it felt like I was submerged in something thicker and more viscous than water, and it took forever.


Ghost Story Chapter 48, Page 509-510