How strange to be speaking in first person! I was our scribbler second person experiment in a meandering piece called Your Name Is Emma, inspired by Wraith: The Oblivion and Homestuck. I’m a ghost who haunted a cafe, a dead bibliophile addicted to coffee, literature, and certain vampire tales.
I may very well have been done in by a vampire. I’m not sure what to think of that. Only I don’t care much for being dead. Fortunately I have a girlfriend, Esther who is willing to drink coffee when I possess her.
I’m also being hunted by a particularly nasty group called the Soul Collectors. Oh, yes, you’ve met them. You may not have recognized them. They don the guise of door to door salesmen, traveling evangelists, and telemarketers. Don’t be fooled. They’re after one thing, your soul. Or someone else’s soul, probably mine. I’ve been trying to avoid them.
Staying away from the Soul Collectors has been my big goal, besides remembering who I am, how I died, and how to move on. There are gaps in my memory. Perhaps this is natural for ghosts. I’m not sure. Moving on rather frightens me. It’s what Esther keeps pushing for. I’m all for making the most of what I’ve got in this limbo. I’ve already attracted the Soul Collectors. Who knows what else I’ll attract if I start kicking up a fuss, trying to move on. If only I could drink coffee. I’m haunted by the memory of its flavor, clinging to a tongue I no longer have. At least Esther will sometimes let me take over her body while she drinks it. She always expects a favor in return for doing so. Sheesh, you’d think she was holding a grudge for the things I did when I was alive and we were dating. She could give me a break since I’m dead. Why is she holding onto all of that anger? I guess she can’t let go any more than I can.
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