“So you know how everybody says what they’d do when they win the lottery? And people do win the lottery, but I don’t know if they buy a house for their mother or buy a hundred acres in the country and open an animal sanctuary or retire and spend the rest of their days on an island somewhere. If you read the news stories about lottery winners, they mostly seem to end up with a lot of people taking advantage of them and going broke in a year.
When I died and became a ghost, it was sort of like winning the lottery. No door would be closed to me. Lack of money would never impede me. I couldn’t be cheated, mistreated, or shot again (that’s how I died, but that’s a story for another time). So I boarded a flight to L.A. (no boarding pass required!), relaxed in first class, slipped into a limo at LAX, and had my pick of any suite at the Beverly Wilshire (you know, the Pretty Woman hotel).
I wasn’t sure how long this ghost gig would last or what came next. So far no one seemed to sense my presence. But if I was supposed to be creating chills and thrills as a specter, then I wanted a classy venue.”
I take photos. I write. My volunteer job is taking photos of rescued dogs and cats transported by the rescue group whose records I manage. Since working and volunteering don’t leave me a lot of time to write, I’m spending 2017 borrowing from what these dogs and cats are writing. They said it’s okay.