Ghosts Next Door

Ghosts Next Door
by Lopaka Kapanui

Dec 3, 2022

Nānāʻole 2022

What a pitiful bastard he is.

 Heartbroken at my passing, he never gave me an iota of attention, much less a looked in my direction when I was alive. Now, here he is, sobbing miserably at the foot of my grave, wishing I was there with him so he could make it up to me. Fucking idiot. Little does he know that my body is six feet below the surface. My spirit has been with him all along, watching him turn into a blithering moron, crying every few seconds because he can no longer deal with the fact that he was never present in my life even though he was standing right in front of me most of the time. To catch you up, I died in a freak accident in my kitchen.

I was done washing dishes and dried my hands off with a washcloth, which I then stuffed into the door handle of my fridge. The thing about that is I did not press it all the way in, so it fell off and landed on the kitchen floor. I stepped on the cloth while leaving the kitchen, and it slid from under me. My two feet kicked up in the air, and I landed on the back of my head and died instantly. Now, for some reason, I'm haunting my idiot father. Actually, I think I might have been arguing with him on the phone while I was washing the dishes. I'm pretty sure that was it. I was upset after I hung up; he wanted to compensate me for the lost time. 

"It's not a fucking business transaction, dad," I hissed at him. "I wasn't the only kid in the house, there were five of us, but I just happened to be the one you had no time for,"

"I just want to hang out. Is that so wrong?" He asked.

"I don't have the time, pops," I told him. "And even if I did, I still wouldn't have the time,"

That's the last thing I remember telling him before I hung up. Everything after that is a blur, and now I'm here in my non-corporeal state, attached to this asshole. I feel sorry for my mother; although I haven't seen her anywhere, I'm always thinking of her, especially now. She put up with so much from him that I'm still surprised she never left him. My surviving siblings are doing their best to keep him company, but after a while, he gets on their nerves too, and they leave. Look at him, sitting there and just existing. I don't know why he's so bothered; I was never his favorite, even though I was the firstborn. It's been hours with him sitting on the edge of his bed, staring into nothing. He cries, takes a shower, watches tv, and cries again. Finally, I'm so agitated that I reach out and slap him and knock him to the floor without thinking. That's when he sees me with eyes so filled with fear that he's on the verge of losing his mind. Instead, he has a heart attack and dies instantly. Fuck, now I'm stuck with him in the afterlife.

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